


Alexithymia

by mahbecks



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Banter, Chill XV, Feelings, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Pre-Story, Rated E for later chapters, Romance, Slow-ish burn, happy feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9444140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbecks/pseuds/mahbecks
Summary: For the past month, Gladiolus has been showing up at the library while Ignis is attempting to get his work done, clearly waiting for something - or someone.It wouldn't have been a problem - were Gladiolus a normal fixture in the nonfiction section.As it is, it's terribly distracting, and Ignis is determined to discover what he's hiding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Final Fantasy XV has given everyone a lot of feelings. Some happy, some angsty, and others of us are sobbing, flailing piles of goo at this point. 
> 
> I wanted to write a story about Ignis and Gladio with pretty exclusively happy feelings. So I've set this story up when they are 19 (Ignis) and 20 (Gladio) and just beginning a relationship. At the beginning of story events, they have known each other practically forever because of their duties to Noctis, but aren't really friends outside of their mutual duty to the prince. I think it's largely canon compliant, but some things will certainly be off. 
> 
> Either way, this is largely just a way for me to get out my feelings for these boys.

 

 **alexithymia** : an inability to identify and describe emotions in the self

* * * * *

 

He was here. Again.

Ignis knew that he shouldn’t be staring. He was in a library, arms filled with books that were really quite heavy, and he was on a tight schedule. He didn’t have time to dawdle. And yet...he couldn’t help himself. Despite himself, he was curious.

What was Gladiolus Amicitia doing in the nonfiction section?

The larger man was at a table, dwarfing the admittedly small chair that he was sitting upon, bent over a book whose title Ignis couldn’t see. It hardly seemed to matter; Amicitia wasn’t paying the book the slightest bit of attention, though he was staring straight at it. Ignis could tell from his relaxed brow and glazed eyes - the other wasn’t really reading the words on the page.

It would have been quite an unusual occurrence, had Amicitia not been doing this every other day for the past three weeks. He would come in around the middle of the afternoon, grab a book, and sit down at one particular table by the history section. He would flip open the book and pretend to read. And then, inexplicably, an hour or so later, he would leave.

Ignis could make neither heads nor tails of it, and that irked him to no end.

Suddenly, Amicitia looked up, catching Ignis staring at him. He smiled in a friendly sort of way. “Yo, Ignis!” He waved a hand, beckoning Ignis over.

Ignis stiffly obliged, taking the stack of books he’d accumulated with him.

Gladiolus whistled in appreciation. “Got a lot of books there,” he commented.

“I need to ensure that the Prince’s education is properly supplemented with the right reading materials,” Ignis explained. “Those teachers of his don’t assign nearly enough reading in order to get a proper view of the more complicated topics. Entirely too many one-sided sources for my liking.”

Amicitia chuckled. “Noct isn’t gonna like that,” he said. “Not with that new game coming out this weekend.”

“Some things are more important than video games, Gladiolus,” Ignis said primly.

“Yeah, well, Noct’s already invited Prompto over to play it. So good luck convincing him to read, uh…” He grabbed one of the books from the stack to look at the title. “ _A Treatise on Metaphysics, Past and Present.”_  

Ignis grabbed the book back, barely suppressing a scowl. He carefully placed it on top of the stack, making sure that all of the corners were perfectly aligned, no book out of order. “That’s not for Noctis,” he said quietly. “That’s just for a bit of my own light reading.”

“Light?” Amicitia’s eyebrows rose halfway to his hairline. He snagged the book again, hefting it in one hand. “Man, if I dropped this on my foot, I’d break a toe! That thing’s a weapon.”

“Give that back,” Ignis demanded, swiping the book before the other got any ideas.

“What do you want to read that for anyways? Sounds boring.”

“Yes?” Ignis raised an eyebrow. “And what are you reading?” He picked up the book on the table, ignoring Amicitia’s protests. “ _A Guide to Altissian Herbs and Fungi_...I had no idea you were interested in such things, Gladiolus.”

“Er, yeah?”

“Tell me, how do you find Erynia’s writing? I always thought him a bit dry myself, but his work is so foundational that I scarcely seem able to avoid it.” Ignis saw the note of panic in Amicitia’s eyes, and he felt a bit of triumph. His initial guess had been true then - the other hadn’t been reading at all!

“I haven’t started it, honestly.” Gladiolus’ words came out in a rush, as if he had just thought of them. Which, Ignis reckoned, was probably the case.

“Oh?” Ignis paused. “Then what are you doing on page three hundred and twelve?”

“...looking at the pictures?”

“You were looking at pictures of a fungal pathogenesis?”

“Huh?” Gladiolus took the book back and looked at the picture Ignis was referencing. “Oh. Well, yeah.”

“How interesting. Were you aware that that particular fungus most commonly infects female genitalia?”

“What?!”

“I take it you weren’t.”

Amicitia cleared his throat and promptly shut the book. “I think that’s enough pictures for one day.”

Ignis turned to leave, a wry smile on his face. He’d made it obvious to Amicitia that he knew the other wasn’t _really_ reading, made it clear he was _onto_ him. Now it was up to him to decide whether or not to continue this charade.

“Hey, wait!”

Ignis paused, turning to see Gladiolus following him. The other patrons of the library were looking upon him with disdain, scowling at his loud outburst.

“Yes?”

“Where are you going?”

Ignis blinked. “I am finished for the day,” he replied, not that he felt particularly obliged to tell Amicitia anything. To his surprise, the other looked a little disappointed. Now why would he feel that way? Again, Ignis was curious.

“You aren’t going to stay and read?”

“I need to get some of these to his Highness,” Ignis said, motioning to the books in his hands.

Gladiolus looked up at the large clock that hung from the library's second floor railing. “It’s only two,” he protested. “Noct doesn’t get out of classes until three.”

Ignis had to fight not to roll his eyes. “And who is there to pick him _up_ from his classes?” he asked pointedly.

“Ah, yeah. That’d be… you.”

“And so, much as I would like to, I really cannot stay and read. I must check these out and then immediately leave for his school. The traffic will be terrible this time of day.”

“Then hey, lemme come with you.”

“...you want to come along?”

“Sure. I have a training session with Noctis later anyways.” He flexed his muscles unconsciously as he did this, as if he was already preparing for sparring. The movement momentarily distracted Ignis - because really, at twenty, Amicitia shouldn’t have had quite _that_ much muscle mass given his past developmental trajectory - but then he nodded in acquiescence. He really didn’t have a reason to say no, after all, and if he spent any more time arguing, he really _would_ be late to pick up the prince.

Amicitia followed him to the front desk, where a librarian quickly scanned the books he was checking out and deftly placed them back into his arms, and then on outside. They walked to where Ignis had parked the car in silence, neither of them finding much reason to speak. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, Ignis found, and it distracted him so much that he walked past the large black car without even noticing.

“Uh, Ignis?”

Ignis froze and looked over his shoulder. Of course, Amicitia had stopped at the right place. With a slight scowl, he backtracked, opening the backdoor to place the library books carefully on the leather seat.

“You forget where you were going?”

“Of course I knew where I was going,” Ignis retorted. “I was… momentarily distracted.”

“By what?”

Ignis ignored him, climbing into the driver’s seat and motioning for Gladiolus to sit down. As soon as the both of them had buckled their seat belts - an action that required a bit of a soliloquy on Ignis’ part to explain why following recommended safety precautions was warranted - he pulled out onto the street and set off for Noctis’ school.

At first, it was nearly as quiet as it had been on the walk out of the library. Amicitia seemed quite content to stare out the window, hands behind his head. Ignis, for his part, remained focused on driving. His earlier assessment of the road conditions had been accurate - this part of the capital was experiencing quite a bit of traffic as people got off work for the day.

It was slow going. Ignis was used to this, and said nothing. Gladiolus was not, and was soon huffing and complaining about the cars around them.

“Dammit, what’s this idiot doing?” he demanded, waving a hand at the car in front of them. “He’s gonna block the intersection, and then the cars going the opposite way won’t have anywhere to go, and we’ll just sit here gridlocked for another round of lights!”

“Perhaps you should go and tell him that.”

“Maybe I will!”

He didn’t look as if he was actually going to make good on his threat, but Ignis activated the locks on the door just in case.

“And this genius! Changing lanes in the middle of the intersection!” Amicitia shook his head. “Idiots!”

Ignis shot him his most patient look. “I did tell you that there would be traffic.”

“This isn’t traffic, it’s just dumb.”

“I believe the definition of traffic could be used to contradict that statement.”

Gladiolus turned to him suddenly, amber eyes narrowing. “How come you aren’t more upset by this?” he asked. “Why doesn’t it bother you?”

“I do this every single day,” Ignis reminded him. “It’s one of my duties to the Crown. I daresay I’ve grown used to it.”

“I know what your duties are.” He paused and then plunged ahead. “But why did you take _this_ road? Why not take the backroads? It might be longer, but you’d avoid the traffic.”

“I _would_ have taken the side streets, were one of them not closed for repairs.”

“Oh.”

“It was on the evening news yesterday.”

Gladiolus waved a hand. “Ah, I don’t watch that.”

“Clearly.”

“If I need information on something, I’ll go straight to the source.”

“Straight to the source?” Ignis repeated.

“Yeah! Direct contact!”

“And what 'direct source' do you recommend for looking up road closures?”

“Uh…”

“You can get back to me on that.”

Silence reigned for the next ten minutes, in which time they managed to crawl another five blocks. Amicitia looked about out of his mind with boredom by this point. He had attempted to find a song on the radio, to no avail, and then he had rolled down the window and tried to talk to every other driver who had their windows rolled down. That had amused him for a while, until no one would talk to him anymore. Defeated, he leaned back in his seat and rolled up the window.

Then he turned to Ignis, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “Hey. Ignis.”

“Yes?”

“We should hang out sometime.”

Ignis blinked. “Hang out?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Without Noct and Prompto, I mean.”

“Like we’re doing right now.”

“Well, yeah, I guess. But not in a car, stuck in a traffic.”

He supposed that would be a more ideal situation. But the greater question was - why? The both of them had been in service to the prince for as long as Ignis could remember. All of that time, they had known each other. But never once had they really spent time together, just the two of them. It was always them and Noctis, or them, Noctis, and Prompto. Or them, Noctis, and the King. Or - well. Suffice it say, they normally did not spend much time in the other's presence outside of their duties to Noctis.

His confusion must have shown on his face, for Gladiolus quickly added, “We should. I mean, we’re gonna be together the rest of our lives, so we might as well get a little friendlier, right?”

“Going to be together? The rest of our lives?”

To Ignis’ great surprise, Amicitia looked embarrassed at his choice of words. “You know what I mean,” he said quickly. “We’re Noct’s for life.”

“Of course,” Ignis murmured, somehow not quite convinced that was truly what the other had meant.

“So?”

“Alright.”

“Really?”

“I… yes.” Ignis had answered without thinking about it, but now that he pondered it, he found that he wasn’t terribly opposed to the idea. Amicitia certainly wasn't the worst company he could ask for, after all, and he had been acting very peculiar over the past month. This would give Ignis the perfect opportunity to see why.

“You're not just agreeing because you think you have to?”

“I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t sure.”

“Great!”

By now, they had reached the last of the traffic and were finally on open road again. The rest of the trip to Noctis’ school passed in relative silence, Gladiolus making occasional comments and Ignis occasionally responding. It was much more comfortable than before.

Both Noctis and Prompto were waiting outside the school, set slightly apart from the other students. Ignis felt a pang of sadness for his liege then, knowing how his position kept him away from most other children his age. _At least he has found Prompto,_ he thought to himself. He very much approved of the boy’s friendship with the prince. It had been very good for Noctis.

The two boys piled into the back seat as soon as Ignis pulled off the road.

“Hey, Ignis!” Noctis exclaimed, sliding into the backseat.

“Watch the-” Ignis whirled around just in time to see the stack of books hit the floor. “-books.”

“Sorry,” Noctis said ruefully, freezing.

Ignis sighed. “It’s alright. I’ll get them later.”

“Hey, Ignis! Gladio!” Prompto said, sitting down into the seat beside Noctis and shutting the door.

Noctis turned to Gladio. “Oh, hey,” he said, sounding slightly surprised. “I didn’t see you there, Gladio.”

“Yeah, we weren’t expecting you!”

“I ran into Iggy in the library and decided to come along,” Gladiolus said, clapping a giant hand onto Ignis’ shoulder.

 _Iggy?_ Ignis thought blankly. _When did I become Iggy?_

“What were you doing in the library?” Noctis asked, scrunching up his nose.

“Uh, studying.”

“Studying _what_?”

“I’d like to know that myself,” Ignis murmured.

“It’s not important.”

Noctis looked from Ignis to Gladiolus for a moment, and then smirked. “I see.”

“See what?” Prompto asked eagerly. “What is it, Noct?”

Noctis leaned over and whispered something in Prompto’s ear. The blonde’s eyes went wide for a moment, and then he smiled and laughed. “Ah-hah! Got it!”

“Got what?” Amicitia asked suspiciously.

“Not telling!” Prompto said gleefully, winking at Noctis.

Gladiolus looked over at Ignis, who had also watched the exchange carefully. “Do you know what they’re talking about?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Ignis replied.

They looked back at their young charge and his friend, both of whom were smirking quite knowingly. “You’ll see,” Prompto said. “Just give it some time!”

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed. “You’ll see.”

Gladiolus turned to Ignis. “You think they know something we don’t?”

Ignis looked back again, but both Noctis and Prompto had already pulled out their phones and were playing a game, intense looks of concentration on their faces.

He sighed. “Unfortunately, I do believe that to be the case.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words and kudos from last chapter! I very much appreciate them :) And now, here's chapter two, featuring cooking with dorks!

_Chocolate cake, vanilla cake, yellow cake, strawberry cake_ …

Ignis flipped through the pages of the cookbook, looking for that one recipe he needed.

_Caramel cake, coconut cake… ah!_

There it was. He set the book down, having finally found the recipe for the carrot spice cake, and began to copy the instructions word for word in a notepad. His writing was small, neat, and precise, not taking up any more room on the page than was necessary.

He had made this cake before. It was one of Prompto’s favorites. Of course, his diet of choice forced Ignis to change a few of the main ingredients, but those were substitutes he could easily make. The cream cheese frosting was also eliminated, though Ignis generally made it anyways in case Noctis wanted it. The prince had enough of a sweet tooth to make up for Prompto’s lack thereof.

He had taken it upon himself to make food for the two of them today. Friday afternoon, they had sequestered themselves in Noctis’ apartments to play that new video game. Apparently, they were attempting to complete it in one weekend. This wouldn’t have been a problem, had they not also apparently decided that staying fed and hydrated while completing said game was too much of a bother. That simply would not do.

He had already decided on the main course - a glazed salmon fillet with a rice pilaf and asparagus. It was one of the few dishes he made that both Noctis and Prompto enjoyed. Well. To a degree, he supposed - he sincerely doubted that he would ever get his liege to eat asparagus. But he would eat the salmon and rice, and Prompto would eat the extra vegetables. Just as Prompto would eat the carrot cake plain and Noctis would cover his in as much frosting as he could.

“Hey!”

Ignis looked up just in time to see Gladiolus drop into the seat opposite him. The other was wearing casual clothing today, a black tank top and a pair of loose fitting gray pants. It left his shoulders bare, revealing the outlines of what would one day be a large tattoo. The lines appeared to form feathers, though Ignis couldn’t be sure as they were still incomplete.

Gladiolus noticed his gaze. “Like my new ink?” he asked, grinning. “I just had this done a few weeks ago.”

“What are they?”

“It's a raptor! A bird of prey!” was the enthusiastic reply. “I can’t wait to have it finished. Gotta wait a few more weeks though - the shop’s booked solid.”

Ignis didn’t have any tattoos, so he was unfamiliar with the process. He found himself curious to discover how it worked. Did it hurt? Was it a burning sensation or more of a piercing pain? How long did it take, on average, to complete? But he didn’t ask any of these questions. He didn’t have any desire to be dragged down to a tattoo shop by an overeager Gladiolus. His skin might not leave intact.

“What’re you reading today?” Gladiolus leaned forward, half-turning the cookbook towards him. “Ah, sweet! Cake!”

“I am cooking for Noctis and Prompto tonight,” he offered as an explanation.

The other let out an amused snort. “Hah, yeah, Noct texted me and told me you were playing chef again,” he said, grinning.

“Well, someone has to make sure he eats,” Ignis retorted.

“Hey, I’m not making fun of you,” Gladiolus said quickly. “It’s good that you take care of him. He needs it.” He leaned back in the chair then with a mournful sigh. “Man, I wish I had someone to make me cake.”

“There will probably be leftovers. Prompto only ever eats one, small slice, and Noctis will be more interested in the icing than the cake.”

“Yeah?” Gladiolus studied him for a moment. “Maybe I’ll come over to Noct’s, then. I can even help you cook for them!”

“I do not require any assistance.”

“Oh, come on, Iggy, let me help. I want to!”

 _Iggy again._ _Why is he calling me that?_

“Do you have any sort of experience?”

“Ah, well, I make a mean cup of noodles,” Gladiolus replied, grinning again.

Ignis scowled. “That’s not cooking!” he said sharply. “Cup noodles barely even count as food!”

Gladiolus’ grin quite suddenly turned down into an intense scowl. “Hey,” he said, his voice almost a growl, “you take that back.”

Ignis blinked. “I most certainly will not,” he said. “They are nothing more than a cheap bastardization of actual noodle dishes, such as ramen, and I refuse to acknowledge them as adequate cuisine.”

“Damn, you’re hateful,” Gladiolus said. “What did the cup noodles ever do to you?”

“They exist.”

Gladiolus shook his head, still scowling at Ignis. “I’m not sure we can be friends anymore, Iggy,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“You’re being very melodramatic.”

“You’re the one being mean to my noodles!”

Ignis sighed and closed the cookbook, standing so that he could return it to the proper shelf. He could feel Amicitia’s eyes on him as he moved, boring holes into his back. ‘ _Being mean to my noodles’,_ he thought darkly. _What a preposterous thing to say. As if noodles have feelings._

He looked back as a shadow fell over him. Gladiolus had stood and moved behind him. He was very quiet for a man his size, Ignis realized; it was quite disconcerting. He hadn’t even heard his chair move. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Amicitia was peering at the bookcase with narrowed eyes. “Where would I find a book on how to make noodles?” he asked. “ _Real_ noodles, since apparently mine aren’t good enough.”

His tone was slightly accusatory, but Ignis ignored it in favor of pointing to a section at the far end of the bookcase. “Over there,” he said.

Gladiolus stalked off in the direction Ignis had pointed, bending down to read the book titles. He trailed a long finger over the books as he read their names, his lips mouthing the words. Ignis watched him as he moved, surprised by the other’s intense concentration. Did he have that sort of single-minded focus in all of his tasks?

“Ah-hah!” Amicitia pulled out a book and showed it to Ignis. It was titled _Make Ramen, Udon, and Soba in 10 Easy Steps!_ There was a picture of a steaming bowl of noodles on the cover. He walked back over to Ignis, holding out the book.

Ignis blinked at him. “What, exactly, are you expecting me to do with that?” he asked.

“Teach me how to make them,” Gladiolus replied.

“ _Teach_ you? To cook?”

“Yes.” A moment later, he added, “Please.”

“Are you sure you want to start with ramen?” Ignis asked, uncertain. He took the book in his hands, looking down at the cover. “It isn’t an easy dish to make, you know. Someone of your skills, you’d be more suited to cooking something simpler. Like rice.”

Amicitia scowled at him. “I’m not an idiot,” he said darkly. “I can make fucking rice.” There was a moment of silence and then he grabbed the book back, half-turning back to the bookcase. “If you don’t want to teach me, just say so.”

Ignis couldn’t decide whether he was more frustrated or annoyed. It wasn’t that he minded teaching Gladiolus how to cook ramen - on the contrary, he enjoyed helping people learn how to do things. And he was damn good at it, if he did say so himself. It was one of the reasons he had been picked to tutor Noctis.

But this wasn’t Noctis. This was Gladiolus Amicitia, who for some inexplicable reason, wanted to spend time with him despite the fact that they had little in common. And he wanted Ignis to teach him how to _cook_ , of all things. Why? Was there some sort of ulterior motive? Was this some sort of joke? He didn’t understand, and that irked him to no end.

“It’s not that I don’t want to help you,” he clarified, swiftly taking the book from the other’s hands before it could be returned to the shelf. “I simply don’t understand your sudden desire to learn how to cook. You’ve never expressed any sort of interest in culinary pursuits before.”

“Are you kidding?” Gladiolus asked. “I love food! Why wouldn’t I be interested in how it’s made?”

“Then why have you never mentioned this to me before?”

To his surprise, Amicitia paused, running a hand through his dark hair. “Ah, well, funny thing actually,” he said, “I’d wanted to ask for your help before. But I never knew how.”

“Using interrogative words, such ‘how’ and ‘why’ are generally a good place to start.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Ignis knew that.

“I never really got the impression you much cared for me.” Gladiolus sat down in a chair, elbows on his knees. “I didn’t want to irritate you by asking you.”

_Ah._

So that was it. This, at least, was familiar territory to Ignis. He was rather quiet and formal around people that he didn’t know very well. Oftentimes, people mistook his aloofness for dislike. And though there were a few individuals that he really didn’t care for, Gladiolus Amicitia wasn’t one of them.

“You wouldn’t have irritated me,” Ignis replied.

Gladiolus looked up at him, amber eyes not quite convinced. “Yeah?”

“Of course not, Gladiolus. Your company is perfectly pleasant.”

He grinned at this. “Perfectly pleasant, huh?”

“I reserve the right to rescind that statement, of course,” Ignis informed him.

Amicitia chuckled. “Sure,” he said. “And call me Gladio. None of this ‘Gladiolus’ shit.”

“...Gladiolus is your name.”

“Yeah, but the only people who call me that are my dad and the King.”

“I suppose I see your point.”

“Good.” He stood up then, towering over Ignis at this proximity. “So when should I come over to Noct’s place?” he asked.

“I had planned on heading over there around six,” Ignis replied. “For now, I need to go to the market and buy the ingredients. Especially if I am going to teach you to make ramen, as well.”

“You’re gonna teach me tonight?”

“Would you prefer another occasion?”

“No!” Gladio smiled at him. “This is great!” He paused for a second, looking as if he wanted to ask something but unsure if he should.

Ignis sighed. “What is it?” he asked.

“Can I come with you to buy the ingredients?”

He really preferred to shop alone - it was quicker that way. He had exact routes through the market that he liked to take, optimizing the shopping process. But the eager look on Gladio’s face was quickly wearing down his resolve. Saying no would have been like kicking a puppy. A very large puppy. With a defeated sort of look that was only halfway sincere, he nodded.

“I suppose.”

* * * * *

 

Cooking with Gladiolus was, for lack of a better word, interesting.

“Don’t touch that!”

“But it looks so good!”

“It just came out of boiling water! You’ll burn yourself!”

“It would _so_ be worth it.”

“Have you no patience?”

“No.”

“Well, at least you’re honest.”

“How’s it going in there?” Noctis called from the couch. He hadn’t even looked up from his video game.

Ignis snorted. “Fantastically,” he muttered.

Gladio was very easy to excite when it came to food. He wanted to know why Ignis did every little thing that he did - why that spice, why did he cut things _that_ way, how did he know what temperature the oven needed to be. It went on, and on, and on, a never-ending string of questions. And then there was his extremely irksome habit of tasting everything, regardless of whether it was complete. A sauce? Gladio stuck a finger in. The frosting? Gladio licked it right out of the bowl. He would’ve eaten the salmon raw had Ignis not forbid it.

“You’re no fun,” Gladio had said, scowling at him.

“Do you want parasites? That’s what happens when you eat raw fish.”

“What about sushi? That’s raw fish.”

“The fish used for sushi is of an extremely high quality, and it is carefully inspected before it is allowed to be sold,” Ignis informed him. “ _This_ fish is not of that high quality, and is thus potentially contaminated with harmful parasites, hence why we must cook it to an internal temperature of sixty-two-point-seven degrees centigrade.”

“Ah, you worry too much.”

“Forgive me, I was under the impression that tapeworms were something to worry about. My mistake.”

Luckily, the dinner preparations were just about complete, so there was very little left over for Gladio to try to eat when Ignis wasn’t looking. While he was waiting for the salmon to finish cooking, he had begun to show the other how to prepare the ingredients for ramen. They had gotten through the broth, flavoring, and noodles without incident, but then Gladio had tried to eat one of the soft boiled eggs immediately after taking it out of water. Ignis had just caught him in time.

“We need those eggs. Don’t eat them.”

“What about this?” Gladio held up a strip of pork. “Can I eat this?”

“No,” Ignis snapped, taking it out of his hands and returning it to the plate from whence it came. “We need that too.” He looked around for something to occupy Gladio’s attention. He finally settled on a scallion, and held it out to the other. “Here. Eat this. We have plenty of scallions.”

Gladio grimaced. “I, uh…no.” He placed the vegetable back onto the counter. “I don’t want that.”

“Then you will simply have to wait until we’ve finished.”

“Fine,” Gladio said sullenly. He sat down on one of the barstools beside Ignis. “What’s next?”

Ignis explained to him the proper order in which to mix the ingredients, performing each step as he spoke. Gladio watched his movements with rapt attention, eyes never leaving the bowl as Ignis added the meat, egg, and scallions. When he had finished, he pushed a bowl towards Gladio.

“Here. Now you try.”

With the same sort of intense focus he’d displayed earlier in the library, Gladio set about preparing his bowl of ramen. He would reach for an ingredient hesitantly, looking up to Ignis before he added it to his bowl. He didn’t appear to want to make any mistakes, his movements much slower than Ignis’ had been. When he was finally done, he looked at Ignis, a huge, dopey grin on his face.

“I did it!”

“Yes, you did,” Ignis said, offering him a small smile.

“Now can I eat it?”

Ignis snorted; he supposed he should have seen that coming. “Yes, now you can eat it.”

Gladio hadn’t even waited for him to finish before grabbing a pair of chopsticks and using them to stuff a huge pile of noodles into his mouth. “Fanks!” he mumbled, heading over to sit with Noctis and Prompto.

Shaking his head amusedly, Ignis began cleaning up the mess, moving dishes to the sink to soak and wiping down the counters with a wet rag. By the time he had finished, the salmon was done. He plated the rice, fish, and asparagus and set them neatly on the counter, informing the prince and his friend that their food was ready. Neither of them responded immediately, of course. But Ignis wasn’t bothered by it; they would come and eat. Eventually.

With a sigh of contentment, he sat down on the stool Gladio had vacated earlier, ready to eat his own bowl of ramen. It had cooled a bit in the time since he’d made it, but that left it nearly the perfect temperature to consume.

“Hey.”

Ignis looked up as Noctis approached him, sitting down on the stool opposite him. He pulled one of the plates of food towards him, immediately pushing the asparagus off to the side before starting on the fish.

“This is good!”

“Thank you, Noct,” Ignis replied. “The asparagus is quite fresh, as well. You should try it - you might like it.”

“Not hardly.”

Ignis sighed. “One of these days, I will get you to like vegetables.”

“If anyone could, it’s you,” Noctis agreed.

“Decided to take a break for a moment, have you?” Ignis asked then, nodding towards where the video game console was set up.

“Gladio’s taking my spot,” Noctis said.

“Does he know how to play the game?”

Noctis shrugged. “The controls are pretty basic,” he said. “He should pick them up quick.” He paused then, chewing on a large bite of rice. “So what’s up with you and Gladio?”

“Hmm?”

“This is the second time I’ve seen you two hanging out on your own.”

“Is that so surprising?”

“You usually don’t, unless I’m there too.”

Ignis couldn’t deny that. “He said that he thought we should get to know each other on a more personal basis,” he said quietly. “And I agreed. We do share a common responsibility in protecting and advising you, after all, and we will be spending quite a bit of time together in the future. It’s only logical that we need to be comfortable with each other.”

Noctis made a noncommittal noise and kept eating.

“Do you disagree?”

“Nope.” Noctis pushed his plate away, finished. The asparagus lay untouched. “But I think there may be more to it than that.”

“How do you mean?”

The prince just grinned at him. “Didn't you say there would be cake?” he asked.

“Noctis-”

“Found it!” Noctis pulled the carrot cake towards him, helping himself to a large slice. Ignis sighed in defeat and went back to eating his food.

Gladio joined him a few minutes later, creating another bowl of ramen for himself using the rest of the ingredients. He sat down in the chair Noctis had vacated, looking over at Ignis. “So what was that about?” he murmured.

“Hmm?” Ignis withdrew his attention from Noctis’ back, finding Gladio’s amber eyes curious.

“What’d Noct say?”

“He was just commenting on how unusual it was for us to be spending time together.”

Gladio frowned. “Is it?”

“A bit.”

He considered this, and then shrugged. “So we’ll do it more often,” he said. “Make it less unusual.” He took another very large bite of noodles. “Tomorrow, three o’clock?”

Ignis blinked. “You want to do something else?”

“Hey, you taught me how to do something,” Gladio said. “It’s only fair I return the favor.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary-”

“Bring a sleeping bag.”

“What?”

“And a tent. You got a tent? You should have a tent.”

“What do you-”

“Every man should have a tent.”

Ignis sighed.

He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your lovely comments and kudos! :) I do appreciate them all.

 

Ignis, as it turned out, did not have a tent.

Insomnia was such a large city that he had rarely ventured beyond its borders, and for good reason. Though the city itself was quite lush and habitable, the area just beyond the walls was not. It simply made no sense to venture beyond the outskirts unless absolutely necessary. Thus he hadn’t seen the need to invest in any type of camping equipment, let alone a tent.

When he had tried to explain this to Gladio, the other had just stared at him as if he had started to speak another language.

“What do you mean, you don’t have a tent?” he’d demanded.

“I really don’t know how to make my meaning any more obvious,” Ignis had retorted.

“Fine. I guess we can share mine; it’s pretty big. I’m guessing you don’t have a sleeping bag either?”

“What need would I have of one?”

“Guess I’ll grab Iris’.” He’d looked Ignis up and down then in a manner that left Ignis feeling slightly uncomfortable, as if he were being appraised. “I hope it’s not too small.”

The conversation had left Ignis with a distinctly uneasy feeling.  

He had so many questions, none of which Gladio was deigning to answer. Where was he taking Ignis? Did he expect the two of them to go outside the city limits? Surely that had to be the case, if they were going camping. It made little sense to camp inside a city. Furthermore, what were they going to eat? What were they going to _do_?

He had awoken early the next day, intending to go to the library and read as much material on camping as he could find. To his dismay, most of the books were practical field guides, with severely limited applicability to his current setting. Still, he’d rifled through the pages as quickly as he dared, trying to absorb as much information as he could about fire pits, gutting fish, and precautions to follow for avoiding large, carnivorous wildlife.

That was where Gladio had found him. The other had smiled and laughed when he’d seen what Ignis was doing.

“Aw, come on, Iggy, you can’t learn about camping by _reading_!” he said.

“You can learn about _anything_ by reading,” Ignis said stubbornly, refusing to believe that his beloved books would lead him astray. He just… must not have found the right ones yet.

“There are some things in life that you just have to _do_ in order to get the hang of them,” Gladio replied, tugging on his arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Ignis sighed and returned his largely unhelpful camp guides to their respective shelves before following the other to the door. The bright sunlight hit him hard, and he had to blink a few times before his eyes adjusted to the light. Gladio had turned left and was already walking down the sidewalk.

“Where exactly are we going?” Ignis asked as he jogged to catch up.

“Not far.”

Such an ambiguous answer did little for Ignis’ frustration. “I was hoping for a location,” he said flatly, “or at least geographical coordinates.”

“Leide.”

That, at least, gave Ignis some information. Leide was a region outside the city of Insomnia, mostly uninhabited due to its extremely dry, arid climate and unfriendly wildlife. As far as he knew, human inhabitations were few and far between.

He looked down at his clothing then, at his dark trousers and button-down shirt. It was hardly the sort of appropriate attire for a trek into the desert. But there was very little he could do about that now, he supposed. With a sigh, he resigned himself to the likelihood that he would never wear these clothes again.

Pity. He very much liked this shirt.

Gladio led him all the way back to the Citadel, stopping just inside the vast doors. “What are we doing here?” Ignis asked, curious.

“Gladdy!”

A high-pitched female voice had called out to them. Ignis turned as Gladio ran over to meet a small girl with brown hair; she was surrounded by several heavy-looking items, including a greenish canvas bag, two squishy sleeping bags, and a large white bag that must have encased the tent.

“Iris!” Gladio greeted her warmly. “Thanks for watching over the stuff for me!”

“No problem!” The little girl smiled. Her eyes turned to Ignis then, and she waved. “Hi Ignis!”

“Hello, Iris,” Ignis replied. He had met Gladio’s younger sister before, but did not know her well so he didn't say more.

Gladio picked up the green bag and thrust it into Ignis’ arms without so much as a warning. “Here,” he said, “you carry this one.”

The bag was heavier than it looked. “What’s in here?” he demanded, hefting the bag in his arms. “Rocks?”

“Of course not,” Gladio replied. He’d picked up the tent and slung it across his shoulder; there was a strap on the bag, Ignis noticed now, making it easy for him to carry it across his back while his hands were occupied with the sleeping bags. “It’s camping equipment.”

“It is very heavy.”

“Too much for you?” Gladio challenged, smirking.

It was a deliberate attempt to rile Ignis up, and they both knew it. “Not at all,” he retorted, though he very much would have liked to have traded equipment with Gladio.

“Good. Let’s go then.” He turned back to his sister and gave her a final farewell, waiting until she had gotten into the elevator that would take her back to their family’s apartments before exiting the Citadel.

“How do you plan on getting us to Leide? You do realize that I cannot take one of the Crown's cars outside the city limits without Noctis?”

“Of course I know that,” Gladio said. “But we don’t need a car. We’re taking a bus.”

“A _bus_?”

“What, you too good for public transportation?”

“I - no. No, a bus is fine.”

And so they ended up at the bus terminal a few minutes later. Gladio purchased their tickets while Ignis waited at the side of the line, and then they hurried off to find the coach that would take them to their destination. They made it just in time, boarding the vehicle minutes before it was scheduled to leave. The only seats left were two at the very front, just behind the driver’s seat.

“You take the window,” Gladio said, nodding to the seats. “I’ll store these overhead.”

Ignis settled into the seat, stuffing the canvas bag underneath. It was a tight fit, but not uncomfortable. That was not the case for Gladio, however. Ignis was quick to notice that the other had to sit with one leg in front of him and one leg out to the side, his limbs too long for the space. But he didn’t seem to mind, looking quite eager as they pulled out of the terminal.

It took them roughly a half an hour just to make it to the border of Insomnia. During all that time, the two of them were quiet, staring out the windows instead of making any attempts at conversation. Gladio seemed to be enjoying the ride, having stretched out so that one long arm rested on the back of their seats. His hand was very close to Ignis’ neck; were he to move it at all, he would touch Ignis. Hyper-aware of this closeness, Ignis kept himself very still.

Still, he could not predict when the bus would hit a bad spot of pavement, and occasionally the momentum would push him back in the seat. Every such movement caused contact that would jolt him back upright. He didn’t know how to describe the sensations the mere touch elicited in him, so he finally shifted away, leaning his back against the very edge of the seat.

Gladio looked over at him when he moved, amber eyes curious. “Uncomfortable?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then why’d you move?”

“I - I had an itch.”

Gladio blinked at him. He didn’t look as if he believed Ignis’ story, but he didn’t question it either. “I hope you like where we’re going,” he said instead, eyes shifting to look out the window. They were in Leide now, the landscape flying by very brown. “My father took us here once for a camping trip.” He snorted. “The King had ordered him to take a week off. Probably the only time he’s ever taken a vacation.

“Trust my dad to make it into a teaching experience though. I was thirteen, and he figured it was high time that he taught me how to survive in the wild. Just in case, he said.”

“In case of what?” Ignis prompted when Gladio fell silent.

“Dunno. It’s just like him though. He takes the family duty very seriously, as do I. We always have to be ready to protect the King. That includes being able to protect him from all circumstances, not just enemies.”

“I… hadn’t pegged Clarus as the camping type.”

“He’s not,” Gladio admitted, smiling. “He hates it. Complained the whole damn time. He didn’t want to leave Insomnia at all, but hey, King’s orders.”

Ignis shifted away from the window a bit, the hard frame cutting into his back. “So what did you do on this camping trip of yours?” he asked.

“Oh, the usual,” Gladio said with a shrug. “He taught us how to fish, how to set up a tent and dig the fire pit, what to look for in a good camping spot… everything you’d need to know.”

“And you want… to teach me to do all of this?”

“I just need you to cook the fish.”

Ignis blinked, unable to tell if the other was being serious or not. And then Gladio laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Of course I’m gonna teach you to do all this! It’s only fair, yeah? You teach me to cook, I teach you to camp…though I would appreciate it if you cooked the fish. I'm really no good at it.”

“Indeed.”

Another half hour passed, in which time Ignis slowly moved back to his original position, Gladio’s hand sitting at the back of his neck. The touch no longer startled him, but seemed almost… natural. Every now and again, Gladio’s fingers would flex, though Ignis could not tell if it was an unconscious movement or not. He found that in either case, he did not mind.

“Hey.” Gladio bumped his shoulder. “We’re here - look.”

Ignis looked out the window and was surprised to see a beautiful expanse of ocean staring back at him, the glistening water of a secluded cove twinkling in the afternoon sunlight. He frowned at this unexpected sight. When Gladio had mentioned camping in Leide, he had thought the other had meant a rocky outcropping on a hillside somewhere. Not on a beach.

They passed by a sign that proudly proclaimed “Galdin Quay” as the bus pulled into a large parking lot. Ignis recognized the name - this was a popular resort and travel destination, one of the few places around with a ferry to Altissia. He turned to Gladio, frowning. “I thought we were going camping,” he said, his voice slightly accusatory.

“We are.”

“This is a resort!”

“That is, yeah,” Gladio said, acknowledging the buildings standing on supports in the middle of the cove. “We aren’t staying there.” The bus had come to a full stop now, the doors opening to let off its passengers. Gladio stood and motioned for Ignis to follow. “Come on. Let’s get off this thing.”

The air was wonderfully warm, a slight, tangy breeze wafting off the water. The inland humidity had disappeared, leaving behind a dry warmth that had Ignis sighing pleasantly despite himself. It was lovely here, he had to admit, well worth the trip outside the city.

Without a word, Gladio led him away from the parking lot and down the beach. They passed sunbathers and swimmers alike, small children running around in the sand and crabs scuttling to get out of their path. Many people were fishing, chatting amiably on piers stretching far out onto the calm water. Farther away, Ignis could see a grassy hillside dotted with rocks and bushes; occasionally, a small tent appeared, signifying this as a popular camping site. He guessed that this was where they were heading.

Sure enough, Gladio made a beeline for the other campsites. “Lots of people here!” he remarked, looking up at the other tents. “Still not too bad though. Should be able to find a spot.”

He picked a site a bit farther down the beach than the other tents, almost to the sandy expanse itself. There was a rocky outcrop here that provided a nice flat surface, and a natural pit in the center filled with the blackened remains of firewood. Gladio dropped the sleeping bags and tent to the ground and turned to Ignis, grinning.

“Ready to get to work?”

* * * * *

“You _pushed_ me!”

“I, uh, didn’t mean to push that hard-”

“You _pushed_ me off the pier and into the water!” Ignis smacked a hand on the water to emphasize this point.

“Uh… sorry?”

“You are most certainly not sorry,” Ignis retorted. “You did that on purpose!”

“I’m sorry you’re in the water,” Gladio clarified, leaning down to reach out a hand to Ignis.

Despite his irritation, Ignis reached out and took the hand, allowing himself to be hoisted back onto the dock. He was positively soaked, his clothes clinging to his body. He looked down at them in disgust; the garments were completely beyond redemption now.  

“On the bright side… I caught dinner!” Gladio held up a large silver-green fish, grinning hopefully.

“How wonderful,” Ignis snapped. He tore his glasses off and attempted to wipe away the water, but it was no use. The rest of him was too wet to absorb any more water.

“Look, I’ve got some spare clothes in my bag. You can wear those.”

“Your clothes will be entirely too big for me.”

“Well, if you’d rather sleep in those…”

Gladio had him there. With a huff of frustration, Ignis followed him back to their campsite, his shoes squelching nastily with each step. They were probably ruined too, he supposed. Leather didn’t do very well in sea water. Luckily, his watch and phone were relatively waterproof. So long as he dried them off, they should still function.

The fire they had lit hours ago was smoldering now, a bed of hot embers in place of the fiery logs they had started with. Gladio threw a few more logs on then, and the fire picked up again, giving off a warm heat that Ignis quite appreciated. He moved a little closer to it, trying to warm his cold, wet hands.

“Here.”

He looked up in time to see Gladio handing him a towel and a pair of clothes. It looked to be nothing more than a cotton t-shirt and a pair of shorts, but at least they were dry. Ignis took them gratefully and went into the tent to change. After setting his glasses, watch, and phone aside, he peeled his clothes off bit by bit, placing them into a small, neat pile by the tent flap so that nothing else would get wet. Away from the fire, he soon found himself shivering with cold, and he quickly toweled himself off.

He wrapped it loosely around his hips as he retrieved the dry clothing, holding them out to inspect them. He was right - it was a simple white t-shirt and a pair of black athletic shorts, both too large for Ignis’ much narrower chest and hips. Still, Gladio was right; it was certainly better than staying in wet clothing for the rest of the night.

“Hey, Iggy-”

Ignis turned to the tent's entrance, looking down at Gladio. The other had frozen halfway inside, staring up at him with an odd look on his face. Ignis frowned. “Yes?” he inquired.

“Sorry, I thought you were dressed already,”  Gladio said. Though his words were apologetic, Ignis noticed that he did not retreat, his gaze remaining locked firmly on Ignis, somewhere in the vicinity of his exposed hips.  

“Did you need something?” Ignis asked, voice sharp.

“Ah - yeah. What did you want me to do with the fish?”

“Just leave it on a clean, flat surface. I will clean it momentarily.”

“Ok.” Still, he did not move, seemingly rooted to the ground.

“Gladio?”

“Yeah?”

“The fish?”

That seemed to finally break the spell. “Ah, shit, yeah,” he said, tearing his gaze away from Ignis. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

Ignis found that his frustration had evaporated, replaced by a strong sense of confusion. The look Gladio had sent him… his eyes had seemed darker, somehow, full of something Ignis couldn’t quite name. He shivered - and this time it wasn’t entirely to do with the cold.

He quickly dressed, and wrapped his wet clothing in the towel, taking both outside with him and setting them by the fire to dry. Gladio was waiting for him, a set of cooking utensils in one hand and the fish in the other. He handed both to Ignis rather roughly and then walked off in the direction of the beach, not sparing Ignis a second glance.

_How peculiar._

With a frown, Ignis got to work on the fish. He quickly sliced off the head and tail and, with a brief grimace of distaste, reached in to remove the innards. Once that had been taken care of, he descaled the fish and cut out several nice even filets to cook. He had never cooked over an open fire before; he had to admit, he was curious to see what it would be like.

Gladio returned just in time to eat, looking much more like himself. His hair was wet, sticking to his neck in long, dark tendrils. Had he gone for a swim then?

“Damn, that smells good,” he said, eyeing the fish filets appreciatively.

“I hope it tastes as good as it smells,” Ignis replied. “I was unable to get an even cook on both sides.”

“Still better than anything I can make.”

Ignis wasn’t sure that was saying much, considering the breadth of Gladio’s cooking skills, but he decided not to mention this. Instead, he removed the filets from the heat and plated them alongside the potatoes he had sliced and fried earlier. After a sprinkle of salt and some lemon juice for the fish, he handed one plate to Gladio and took the other for himself, settling into a camp chair.

"Thanks." Gladio eyed him for a moment, and then snorted. “Those clothes really do swamp you,” he said.

“Yes, your chest is a good deal broader than mine,” Ignis said absently. He took a bite of fish, pleasantly surprised at the smoky flavor. Perhaps he would have to cook things on a open flame more often.

“Oh yeah?” Gladio seemed pleased with this assessment.

“I have never been one for lifting weights,” Ignis said. “I prefer cardiovascular exercise, and body weight training for strengthening.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Ignis lifted an eyebrow at that, and Gladio hastily added, “I mean based on your body. You’ve got a runner’s build.”

“Do I now?”

“Pretty toned for a runner though.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about my body.”

Gladio choked on his fish.

“Yeah, well, I notice things.”

“Like my body."

“...Yeah.”

“Gladio-”

“Hey, look! Stars!”

Ignis allowed himself to be distracted, looking up into the night sky. Sure enough, the navy blue sky was sparkling with tiny white stars. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and Ignis soon forgot what they had been discussing before.

It was nearly impossible to see stars in Insomnia, even on a clear night. There was simply too much light pollution. But out here, where the population was much smaller, and the subsequent reflected light much lesser, the night was illuminated with starlight.

“Pretty, huh?”

“Very beautiful,” Ignis agreed.

“Hey, Iggy.”

Ignis looked down from the heavens.

“Thanks for coming out here with me. Even if you’ve had a crappy time.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ignis said, bemused.

“Yeah?”

“It has been a learning experience, not a ‘crappy time’. Even if you did push me into the ocean.”

“You’re never gonna forget that, are you?”

“Not at all.”

Gladio sighed. “Figures.”

The both of them had now finished eating. Ignis took the plates down to the ocean and washed them off in the water while Gladio scrubbed the cooking utensils.  When they returned to camp, they set about preparing to go to sleep. Each of them unrolled their sleeping bags, Gladio’s a plain black and blue and Iris’, out of its dark outer wrapping, shockingly pink.

Gladio chortled gleefully at the sight of Ignis in a hot pink sleeping bag. Ignis glared at him and slunk down further into the makeshift bed, setting his glasses down to his side.  He blinked and quickly turned back around as a flash went off in the tent. Gladio had his phone out, and had clearly just taken a picture.

“What are you doing?” Ignis demanded.

“Capturing the moment forever,” Gladio shot back, turning the phone to show Ignis.

“Delete that picture.”

“Never!” Gladio crowed. “Just wait until I show Noct! This may even be background worthy!”

“There is nothing wrong with the color pink,” Ignis snapped.

“It’s not the color so much as the little flowers and unicorns on the side,” Gladio pointed out. “Also - I think it sings if you squeeze the outer corner.”

“You must be joking.”

“Try it and see.”

Sure enough, the sleeping bag sang, a vile, kidsy song that surely even Iris was too old to enjoy. Scowling at Gladio - who was clutching his side from laughing so hard - he turned over onto to one side and made to go to sleep.

He now saw why, as Gladio had said earlier, every man needed his own camping supplies.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude, this is super saccharine, even for me. And not just because this chapter has doughnuts and desserts. 
> 
> Thanks again for the comments and kudos! :)

Ignis awoke early the next morning.

It was mostly out of habit, for he had been waking long before the sun was up since he had been old enough to do basic arithmetic. It was also, he suspected, because of the unfamiliar noises that accompanied early morning on a beach - the gentle murmurings of the waves lapping at the sand, the scuttling of crabs as they searched for their morning meal, and farther away, the cries of hungry gulls. Combined, they created a not altogether unpleasant atmosphere that was, nonetheless, noisy.

He was warm, very warm, and it was surprisingly comfortable. Sometime during the night, he had turned the other direction so that he was now facing Gladio. That would not have been a problem - as they had kept a respectable six inches of space between their bodies - had Gladio not also rolled towards him sometime in the middle of the night.

Gladio was apparently a sprawling sleeper. One of his arms was thrown up above his head, the other flung out carelessly to the side so that it lay across Ignis’ ribcage. His legs were at opposite angles from each other, one stretched down so his toes peeked out of the bottom of his sleeping bag, and the other curled up next to his side.

Ignis wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. Did he dare try to extricate himself from the other’s grip, or would that awaken him? He had no idea how light of a sleeper Gladio was. Perhaps instead he should try to feign sleep, and let Gladio decide what to do with this situation?

Gladio made his decision for him, murmuring something in his sleep and pulling his arm closer to him - the arm that was currently laid across Ignis’ chest. Ignis resisted at first, but for whatever reason, Gladio unconsciously tightened his grip and tugged, bringing them even closer together, their faces scant inches apart now.

This was too much for Ignis.

“Gladio,” he said, quietly but firmly.

There was no response.

“Gladio!” he said more insistently, reaching out to grip the other’s shoulder and give it a bit of a shake.

“Mmmm.”

“Wake up.”

“Go ‘way,” Gladio muttered, finally cognizant enough to respond. “‘m comfy like this.”

“Well, I am not,” Ignis snapped, attempting to push him away again. This only served to make Gladio resist moving even more, and Ignis found his dead weight very difficult to move.

The struggle was finally enough to make Gladio open his eyes. He blinked blearily at Ignis, seemingly unperturbed by their closeness. “What’re you yappin’ about?” he demanded, his voice still rough with disuse.

“In case you haven’t noticed, you are preventing me from getting up.”

“So? It’s early. Way early.”

“This is when I always get up. Besides, we need to get back to the capital. I have several meetings to attend in Noctis’ stead while he is at school.”

“We have time.” Gladio’s eyes slipped shut again, and he snuggled down into his pillow.

“We most certainly do not have time!” Ignis said. “Let me go!”

“Go back to sleep, Iggy.”

“Gladiolus, get your hand off me this instant!”

“What're you talking about?” Gladio opened his eyes again, scowling.

“Your arm,” Ignis pointed out, motioning to the arm slung casually across him. “Every time I attempt to stand, you pull me closer.”

“Oh.” It seemed to take Gladio several minutes to process this bit of information. “Sorry. I’m a bit of a cuddler.”

“I can see that.”

“Can’t help it,” he continued. “You’re warm.”

“Considering that I am _alive,_ I should be,” Ignis retorted. “That does nothing to change the fact that both you and I need to get back to our duties.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Finally, he withdrew his arm and rolled over onto his back, stretching. He groaned at the pull on his muscles, looking for all the world like a very large cat. Ignis tried not to stare, for despite his annoyance with the other man, he looked uncommonly good for having just woken up. “What time is it, anyways?”

Ignis looked down at his watch. “A quarter after six.”

Gladio groaned again, throwing a hand over his face. “Why do you get up this early? It isn’t even light out yet!”

Ignis ignored him, rising to his feet and going to retrieve his clothing from outside. The cool morning air made him shiver, and he hastened to the firepit, where the embers of last night’s fire were still emitting a dull, orange glow. He stood there in silence for a few minutes, breathing in the salty sea air. He had no idea when he would experience it again, after all, and it wasn't altogether unpleasant.

Gladio appeared a moment later, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’ll start packing things up,” he offered. “I don’t have much for breakfast, but I think there’s a little shack that sells coffee and doughnuts up the beach. If you wanna go there after we’re done here.”

“That would be nice,” Ignis admitted, his irritation fading somewhat at the mention of coffee.

He retreated into the tent and quickly changed back into his clothes. They were stiff from the salt and he didn’t want to dwell too long on the smell, but he would only have to wear them for the duration of the ride back to Insomnia. He could live with that.

After doing his best to straighten his hair and retrieving his phone and glasses, he began to fold up the sleeping bags. Getting each roll back into its casing was more difficult than he anticipated, and by the time he was finished, he thought he would be happy to never see a sleeping bag again. With a huff of frustration, he pushed the bags out of the tent and then quickly exited himself.

Gladio was waiting for him so that he could strip down the tent and fold it back up inside its bag. He did this with remarkable efficiency. Perhaps Ignis should have let him do the sleeping bags too.

The breaking down of camp now complete, Gladio led the way back down the beach. Ignis followed him quietly, forsaking conversation for the chance to watch the sun rise. It was a beautiful morning, rays of gold and pink light reflected off the water. Though he woke before dawn almost daily, it was a rare occasion when he was allowed to just stop and watch the sun rise. He found that it was very calming, and felt a bit dismayed that he couldn’t see it more often.

The shack had just opened for business when Gladio and Ignis arrived. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air, and Ignis breathed it in happily. At last, here was something on this camping trip that he could enjoy. He reached down to retrieve his wallet, hoping the bills inside weren’t too waterlogged to use.

“Here, I got it,” Gladio said, motioning for Ignis to put away his money.

Ignis frowned. “You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“Hey, this little trip was my idea, so it’s on my tab,” Gladio replied. When Ignis still looked uncertain, he grinned and added, “What, can’t a guy buy you coffee?”

“No, it’s just - thank you.” Ignis changed tactics halfway through his sentence, deciding it would be easier to let Gladio buy him the coffee than arguing about it.

“No problem. Want anything particular, or just coffee?”

“Black coffee will be fine.”

“No doughnut?”

“Doughnuts are terrible for your health.”

“Yeah, and they’re also fucking delicious,” Gladio retorted. “So… doughnut?”

“...I suppose one won’t hurt.”

“That’s the spirit, Iggy! Custard or cream?”

“I prefer cream.”

“I bet you do.”

Ignis looked at the other sharply, wondering if that had been an innuendo on purpose or by happy accident. Gladio had already stepped up to the window though, ordering their breakfast, and it would have been rude to interrupt. Pursing his lips slightly, Ignis stepped off to the side, waiting for the cashier to finish up the transaction.

A minute or two passed, and then Gladio handed him a cup of coffee and one cream-filled doughnut, keeping three more pastries for himself.

“No coffee for you?” Ignis guessed.

“I’m gonna try and get some sleep on the bus ride back,” Gladio replied, already tearing into the first doughnut with gusto. “Damn, these are good!” He waved a hand at Ignis. “Try it!”

Ignis took a small bite of his doughnut. It was, indeed, very tasty, and he quickly took a second bite. “Delicious,” he agreed.

Gladio looked up at him and paused. “Hey,” he said, pointing to the corner of his mouth, “you got something there… on the side of your mouth.”

It was probably the creamy filling of the doughnut. Slightly embarrassed at having been caught with food on his face, Ignis darted his tongue out to try and get the offending cream.

“No, it’s - here,” Gladio stepped forward, swiping his thumb across Ignis’ cheek. The edge of the digit just barely brushed the corner of Ignis’ mouth, and for whatever reason, the touch made Ignis feel strange. “Got it.”  

If he had thought Gladio touching his face would make him feel strange, that was nothing compared to what happened next. Gladio then put his thumb in his mouth and licked it clean. Ignis swallowed mutely, his mouth suddenly dry. It felt as if the bottom had fallen out of his stomach. When he saw Ignis' blank stare, Gladio shrugged. “Didn’t want it to go to waste,” he muttered. Before either of them could contemplate it further, he pointed down the road to where a bus was already parked. “Come on, I think the next bus leaves soon.”

Ignis followed him, silent once more. This time, however, it was not to contemplate the sun’s rising, but to try to put a word to the fluttery feeling in his stomach. It was halfway between excitement and anxiety, making him feel strangely nervous and flushed at the same time. He put a hand to his cheek, but it remained cool. For that, he was grateful. It would have been very awkward had he needed to explain away a blush.

The trip back to the Crown city was quiet and uneventful. Gladio, true to his word, fell asleep very soon into the ride, his head lolling back on the seat in what looked like a terribly uncomfortable position. Ignis studied him for a few moments, still trying to put his feelings in order, but quickly gave up and turned towards the window, watching the landscape roll by instead.

They arrived at the Insomnian bus terminal perhaps an hour later, and Ignis nudged Gladio awake.

“Hmm?” Gladio peeked an eye open and then sat up, turning around in his seat. “We there?”

“So it would appear.”

After retrieving the camping supplies, they exited the bus and began the walk back to the palace. The sun had risen completely by now, and people were everywhere: rushing in and out of coffee shops, heading to their offices for the day, and attempting to herd children into cars to be taken to school. It invigorated Ignis, and he ran through the day’s appointments in his head as he walked, making mental notes to himself about what he needed to accomplish.

Gladio, on the other hand, did not look invigorated at all. If anything, he looked even crankier. “You mean there’s _more_ people who get up at dawn out there?” he grumbled, eyeing a woman balancing four cups of coffee in her arms while attempting to open a door. Eventually, someone on the interior of the building noticed her plight and came to let her in, much to the woman’s obvious relief.

“Believe it or not, most of the people in the capital probably rise at dawn,” Ignis said, amused. He shot Gladio a sideways glance. “I suspect that once Noctis starts taking on more responsibilities, you will too.”

The only response he got a grunt.

Their paths parted at the Citadel. Ignis needed to go to his apartment and prepare for the day (quickly, if he was to make his first meeting on time) and Gladio needed to put away the camping gear before he headed to… well, Ignis wasn't precisely sure what Gladio did during the day while Noctis was at school. He had never really thought about what the other did with his spare time. He couldn't possibly train all day... could he?

The thought caught him off guard, and he didn’t hear it when Gladio spoke to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he said automatically.

Gladio grinned. “I just said that I’d see you around,” he said. “Later, Iggy.”

“Yes. Good-bye.”

He watched Gladio retreat into the Citadel, hauling all of the gear as if weighed nothing. Ignis didn’t move until he could no longer see the other, and even then, it was with a heavy reluctance. _Why is that?_ he wondered. He had no reason to feel this way. It wasn’t as if he would never see Gladio again.

Frowning at his own curious antics, he set off for his apartment, pushing thoughts of the other man firmly from his mind.

* * * * *

Later that evening, Ignis found himself reading in his apartment. He was attempting to brush up on a rather obscure bit of Lucian history in order to help Noctis study for his next exam, but he feared it was going rather poorly. The author of this particular text had no aptitude for writing; the words were forced and stilting, terribly jarring to read. He had been working on this chapter for perhaps an hour now, and he still felt as if he had made very little progress.

A knock on the door broke his concentration - though to be quite honest, he was grateful for the interruption. Anything to give his eyes a reprieve.

To his surprise, it was Gladio.

“Hey, Iggy.”

Before Ignis could respond, the other had pushed his way into the apartment and taken a seat on the leather couch, drawing a bag up into his lap.

“What are you doing here?” Ignis asked, attempting to keep his voice light so that his words did not come out as accusatory. “Is something wrong?”

Gladio shook his head. “Something gotta be wrong for me to come and see you?” he asked.

“No,” Ignis said quickly, “but given how late it is, I thought… “ He broke off and cleared his throat. “Never mind.” He walked over and sat down beside Gladio, watching as the other man began to rummage around in his bag. “Are you looking for something?”

“Yeah,” Gladio replied. “Hold on, almost got - found it!” He pulled out an old, worn book and handed it to Ignis. "Found this today, in my family's apartments. Thought you much like it."

The cover was so faded that the writing was completely illegible. Curious, Ignis flipped open to the title page, where the words “ _Fiftee Clasical Lucian Pastrees_ ” were written in a looping calligraphy. He froze and looked over at Gladio, surprised.

“This is a very rare book,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, I know,” Gladio said. “See the funny spellings? Apparently that’s how people in Lucis used to spell, a few centuries ago. Weird, huh?”

“Where did you get this?” Ignis asked sharply. He had looked through every cookbook in the library, he was sure of it, and he never, not _once_ , stumbled upon a find like this. This was the type of book chefs dreamed of finding, the inspiration behind their most celebrated dishes.

And now it was here, sitting in his lap.

“It’s mine.” Ignis stared at him for a moment, completely shocked. “Or at least, it was my mother’s. Belonged to her family. It’s always sat on one of the shelves in the kitchen, but no one’s used it since… Well, I thought you could get some stuff out of it. For Noct. Iris might want it back some day, but she was fine with letting you keep it for a while.”

“Gladio, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“I thought you might like it.”

“I do!” Ignis said quickly. “I… this is incredible, Gladio.” Already, his fingers were itching to turn the page, altogether too eager to see what sort of recipes might be waiting. But he could not accept it. This was too much. Though he was loathe to admit it, this was something he simply could not take. It would have been improper.

Ignis looked up to see Gladio watching him intently. “You’re gonna try and give it back to me, aren’t you?” he asked.

“I - I must,” Ignis aid, offering the book back.

“Why?”

“This was your mother’s,” Ignis said simply. “And it belonged to her family before that. I could never take this book, Gladio. It has too much meaning to your family.”

Gladio raised an eyebrow. “That why it’s sat on a shelf for the last ten years, gathering dust?”

“That isn’t what I-”

“Besides, I’m not _giving_ it to you,” Gladio continued. He sat back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just want you to read it. You’d enjoy it, and you, out of all the people I know, could actually put it to use.”

Well, if that was the case… no, no he did not need to follow that thought to its completion. He was giving the book back, and that was that!

But it did not appear as if Gladio were going to give in, either.

“Use it to cook something for Noct - you know how he loves sweets,” Gladio said stubbornly. "No one would protest if you used the book to make the royal family dessert." 

“You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?” Ignis guessed.

“Nope.”

Ignis stifled a sigh, returning the book to his lap. “I will return it,” he said firmly. “Once I have copied down some recipes I think Noctis will like.”

“You do that.”

“And I will take very good care of it.”

“I know.”

Ignis stared down at the faded cover, wondering at what had caused this sudden bit of luck. He couldn’t quite believe it - not only had he been rescued from perhaps the most boring historian who had ever existed, but he’d been gifted with the chance to read up on some of Lucis’ finest desserts. And it was all thanks to the man sitting beside him on the couch, arms now crossed behind his head and legs sprawled out before him, a man who had previously been little more than an acquaintance to him.

He was forced to admit that that was no longer the case. Though it had been merely a week since Gladio had suggested that they spend more time together, they had progressed beyond the stage of being mere acquaintances to something less well defined. To be frank, Ignis wasn’t sure how to describe it. Just as he had been unable to describe his feelings when Gladio had touched his lips this morning, he now found it impossible to think of how he could describe the other man.

Friend seemed too simple for the bond they were creating. And comrade scarcely seemed intimate enough. Ignis blinked in surprise at the thought. Was that what he was coming to want out of this new relationship? Intimacy?

His stomach twisted into knots just thinking about it, accompanied by the same excited sort of nervousness he had felt that morning.

He looked up at Gladio then, to see if his silence was being frowned upon, but the other man had taken a magazine out of his bag and reading it with interest.

With a small smile on his lips, Ignis leaned back into the couch, allowing himself to curl his legs underneath him as he opened the book to the first recipe. Together, they spent the rest of the night reading in comfortable silent, sharing things they found interesting with one another. As the hours progressed, they slowly moved closer together, so that Ignis’ knees were brushing against Gladio’s thigh. It was perhaps an unconscious movement, or maybe simply the combined effect of their weight and gravity on the couch cushions.

But if either noticed, they said nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really just been flying by the seat of my pants here, but I think we're getting to the climax soon :)
> 
> (hurr hurr, pun intended)

“Here, taste this.”

Gladio gleefully leaned forward, taking the spoon out of Ignis’ hand and licking it clean.

“Better?”

“It tastes amazing.”

Ignis bit back a sigh. “That isn’t helpful,” he admonished.

“It tastes a little more chocolate-y, if that’s what you mean,” Gladio replied. The spoon in his hand was edging back towards the mixing bowl, and Ignis bat it away with a gloved hand.

“If you’re going to continue to eat the batter, will you at least use a clean spoon?” he snapped.

Gladio did as he was instructed, switching out his dirty spoon for a clean one so that he could take another - much larger - spoonful of cake batter. “Why are you so worried about this?” he asked. “It’s really good, Iggy. I’m sure Noct will like it.”

Ignis shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he replied, looking down at the bowl full of batter with disdain. “There is a pastry that his Highness had once when he was younger, in Tenebrae. He has asked me to make it for him several times, and I have, unfortunately, never been able to recreate it.”

“Well, can’t you just look up the recipe?”

“That would be the obvious solution to the problem, yes. But Noctis doesn’t know what the dessert was called. He just remembers vague details about how it tasted - sweet, chocolate, rich…” Ignis sighed, pushing the bowl towards Gladio. “This batch is all wrong, I think.”

Gladio happily dug into the remaining cake batter, lifting spoonful after spoonful to his lips. Noctis’ loss was his gain, apparently.

“I had thought that the recipe might be in that book that you gave me,” Ignis continued, beginning to put dirty dishes in the sink for a soak. “Though it is not Lucian in origin, I thought there might have been some reference to it. Noctis speaks about it as if it is quite famous.”

Gladio snorted. “Knowing Noct, it could be something he bought from a stand on the side of the road,” he muttered.

Ignis said nothing, though he too privately worried that that might be the case. It was entirely possible to romanticize memories from childhood, to make them into these elaborate, wonderful things that they really weren’t. If Noctis associated enough happiness with the pastry, it was not unreasonable to suspect that he was remembering something quite differently from what had actually occurred. But that would not deter Ignis. He would continue to make desserts until he found one that the prince deemed acceptable. He liked the challenge, and if nothing else, it was always good to practice his baking skills.

He looked up at Gladio, who was still intent upon the bowl in front of him. Ignis was surprised - and a little impressed, if he were honest - that the other was managing to eat as much batter as he was. It was very rich, and almost supersaturated with sugar.

Gladio noticed him staring. “What, do I have something on my face?” he asked, licking his spoon clean once again.

“No, that isn’t it,” Ignis replied. “I was just wondering how it is that you are managing to eat that much.”

“Yeah, I’m almost done,” Gladio said, nodding. “It’s super rich.”

“I hardly ever see you eat sweets.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like them,” Gladio replied. “I mean, we had doughnuts just last week.” He shrugged then, finally setting the spoon down in the bowl and pushing it away. “I don’t eat too many sweets. I don’t need all that excess sugar. But I take cheat days every now and then.”

“I see.”

“Believe it or not, there are days when I don’t train too,” Gladio continued. “You have to let your body rest occasionally, or it breaks down. The same goes for sticking to a diet; sometimes you just need to have dessert. Or a drink. Or… whatever it is you really like. Otherwise you get really cranky and start to crave the thing you want, and then you end up binging on it.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Gladio laughed. “I didn’t always used to be this disciplined, you know,” he said. “My dad had to force it into me.” He paused. “Did someone ever teach you that kind of stuff?”

“Yes and no,” Ignis replied. He took the half-empty bowl off the counter, scraping the extra batter into the trash can before rinsing it out and placing it with the other dishes in the sink. “My schooling was formal enough to include basic etiquette and deportment lessons.”

“But…?”

“But I believe part of my ‘discipline’, as you call it, is just who I am,” he continued, “part of my personality.” He gave a rare smile to Gladio then, wiping his hands clean on a dishrag. “I must have been a very precocious child.”

“Hah, you mean boring.”

Ignis scowled at the other, trying not to let it show how much the words jarred him.

Boring.

It was a word he had been called many times, often as an insult. He had not had very many friends as a child, partly because of his reserved nature, and then later because he had been selected as an advisor to the future king. It had isolated him, made him different from his peers. It had also made him an easy target for name-calling and other snide comments, though he wouldn’t have gone so far as to call it outright bullying. No one had ever said anything to his face. Still, it rankled him to hear the word ascribed to him now, more than he would have liked to admit.

That it had come from Gladio made the sting a little worse.

Ignis paused. And why was that? Why would it hurt more coming from him than it would from anybody else? He frowned. This was… most unusual.

“Iggy?”

Ignis looked up to find Gladio staring at him.

“You know I’m just teasing you, right?”

“Are you?” Ignis asked, his voice sharp. “I couldn’t tell.”

“I don’t think you’re boring at all.”

“No?”

“I think you’re fascinating.”

Ignis raised his eyebrows at that. “Is that so?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Do you care to elaborate, or-”

“You’re interesting,” Gladio replied, shrugging. “You do so many things so well, and you know something about _everything._ I never know what to expect from you.”

“On the contrary, I think I’m quite predictable.”

Gladio smiled. “You are anything but predictable, Iggy,” he said. His expression softened. “And hey - sorry for teasing you. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know.”

And Ignis found that he _did_ know. Gladio’s words had taken him by surprise, but now that he had had time to process them, he found that he recognized them for the friendly jibe that they were. Gladio was many things, but cruel was not one of them. Teasing, yes - mean, no.

“Seemed like it bothered you,” Gladio said. He sounded a little uncomfortable.

“My peers in school used to say much the same of me,” Ignis admitted. “I never cared for them. Their insults weren’t truly hurtful, but...I would prefer not to think of them, just the same.”

“They’re idiots.”

Ignis blinked at this vehement statement. “They were children, Gladio,” he said mildly, “children say mean things without really intending them.”

“Yeah, well. They’re still idiots.” He stood up and walked around the counter, stopping just before Ignis, whose chest contracted in a most peculiar fashion at the other’s nearness. He hadn’t noticed before how his eyes were only level with Gladio’s shoulders. He had to crane his neck up to see the other’s face. “Come on. Let’s go get Noct.”

Ignis looked over at the clock on the stove, seeing that it was indeed two-thirty. He had completely lost track of the time. Looking back to Gladio, he nodded, grabbing his jacket and his keys as they headed towards the front door of his apartment.

He was lost in thought as they made their way to the first floor of the Citadel, attempting to sort out the strange, heart-racing sensation lancing him after what had just happened between him and Gladio. He felt jittery, nervous almost, but excited, happy. It was an odd feeling, one he’d never truly felt before.

He hadn’t the slightest idea what to call it.

* * * * *

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“But Ignis, I’ve done this type of problem a hundred times already!”

“And you have gotten this type of problem wrong almost two thirds of those times,” Ignis reminded Noctis. He tapped the piece of paper. “You have to be able to solve this sort of equation, Noctis. It’s foundational to the rest of the chapter.”

Noctis let out a disgusted noise, but took the paper back and diligently began to do more of the practice problems Ignis had drawn up for him.

Ignis leaned back in his chair, resuming his reading. It was late in the afternoon, almost evening really, and they had been here in the library for hours now. The prince had an exam the next week, and he was sorely unprepared for it. Ignis tried to help him where he could, and Noctis _was_ getting the hang of things, but he did not like putting effort into math problems that he did not want to solve.

Ignis had always liked math. It was formulaic and logical - if you knew the right formula and the proper steps to solving the equation, then you would succeed at getting the correct answer. If you made a mistake, then you would not. In that sense, it was much like following a recipe. So long as the proper protocols were observed, the method was almost foolproof.

“What’s the quadratic formula again?”

“X equals negative B, plus or minus the square root of B squared minus four AC, all over two A.”

“I’m never going to remember that,” Noctis grumbled.

“If it helps, there is a song.”

Noctis blinked up at him. “A song?”

“It goes to the tune of ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’.”

“Sing it.”

Ignis hesitated. “I would rather not,” he said.

“How am I going to know how it sounds then?”

With a heavy sigh, Ignis obliged, singing the song in a low voice so as not to attract attention. Noctis was smirking at him, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

Ignis sniffed pointedly. “Get back to work,” he instructed.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Noctis returned to his problem set, occasionally humming the tune of the song under his breath to help himself remember the formula. The song quickly got stuck in Ignis’ head, much to his irritation, and he found it hard to concentrate on what he was attempting to read. Finally, after the fifth time he had lost his place, he slipped a bookmark between the pages and set the book down, giving up on absorbing any more information. Noctis eyed him curiously, but said nothing.

Ignis let his gaze wander about the library, absently watching people walk between the shelves. The library wasn’t particularly busy this afternoon - it was a weekend after all - and those who were here looked to be deeply absorbed in their reading. One man, sitting just across the way from them, had constructed a little fort of books around himself, leaning so far forward to read that it was a miracle his nose wasn’t grazing the page. On the lower level, a woman was carrying a stack of books taller than she was, her movements almost comical as she fought not to lose control of the tower.

A small smile on his lips, Ignis turned his head in the opposite direction. A few more people were studying there, one dancing to the music of his headphones and another biting a pen so hard it looked like it was apt to break. And then -

Ignis paused. Was that... Gladio? Again?

Whatever was he doing here?

Noctis noticed his gaze. “Huh,” he said lightly. “He’s here. Again.”

Ignis shot his liege a sidelong glance. “You’ve noticed him too?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t find it... unusual?”

Noctis shrugged, scribbling in an answer that Ignis was sure was incorrect. “Not really, I guess,” he said. “He likes to read.”

“He likes to read books on martial arts, weaponry, and _novels,_ ” Ignis pointed out. “That, if I not mistaken, appears to be a textbook on the major economic theories of the last century.”

“How can you tell?”

“I recognize the binding.”

Noctis snorted at that.

“It’s an important book,” Ignis said stiffly, picking up on the prince’s bemusement.

“I’m sure,” Noctis allowed. He sat up straight then and pushed the sheet of math problems towards Ignis. “There. I think I’m done.”

Ignis looked over the answers, using a red pen to circle those that were incorrect. There were much fewer of them this time, he noted happily. It appeared Noctis was getting a handle on things. Finished with his grading, he pushed the sheet back across the table. “Study those tomorrow to see where you’ve gone wrong,” he said.

“No more problems?” the prince asked eagerly.

“I think we can end here tonight.”

“Sweet! I think I’ll text Prompto and see if he can come over.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed a few buttons, typing out a quick message. He looked up when he was finished. “You wanna come? We can watch a movie or play a game or something.”

“I suspect you will want something to eat,” Ignis said wryly, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

Noctis gave him a sheepish look. “That… would also be nice.”

“Any requests?”

“Nah, whatever's good,” Noctis said enthusiastically. His phone pinged and he looked down, eyes quickly scanning the screen. “Prompt’s on his way.”

“Very good.” He stood, beginning to gather up his books in his arms.

“Hey. Ignis.”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to invite Gladio?”

“Do _I_ want to invite Gladio?” Ignis paused. “Do you?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s your apartment, Noct,” Ignis reminded him. “It really wouldn’t be appropriate for me to invite him.”

The prince rolled his eyes. “That isn’t - you know what I meant.”

“Do I?”

“You two have been hanging out a lot recently,” Noctis pointed out. “I just thought you might want to  invite him.”

“Only if you want to.”

Noctis stared at him for a moment. “You’re acting awful evasive,” he said. “Did something happen?”

Ignis walked around the table, motioning for Noctis to follow him. It gave him time to think up an answer to the prince’s question. “Gladio… told me that he found me fascinating,” he admitted, his voice sounding stiff to his ears.

“...yeah?” Noctis, on the other hand, sounded completely nonplussed.

“Well, that isn’t something I’m told everyday.”

The prince stopped, quirking an eyebrow. “Did you not know he thought that about you?” he asked. He sounded surprised. Ignis didn’t answer, and Noctis snorted. “Specs, he comes to the library almost every day.”

“And? I come to the library almost every day.”

“Exactly. It's not just for the books.”

What... ah. He saw the prince’s meaning now. He frowned; what it really so simple? Was that why Gladio had been coming to the library, reading strange books all by himself? Ignis had suspected that he was waiting for someone, perhaps in hopes of one day approaching them, but he’d never thought that perhaps that person was _him._

The thought sent a little thrill through him.

“He likes you.”

Again, Ignis was silent, though this time his heated cheeks betrayed him.

“Do you like him?”

“I... don’t know.”

“Well, you should find out,” Noctis said.

Abruptly, the prince turned on his heel. Ignis frowned, wondering for a moment where he was going, until he realized Noctis’ trajectory. Sure enough, he stopped at Gladio’s table; the man pretended to look surprised at the prince’s appearance, but neither Noctis nor Ignis were fooled. It was clear he had been watching them.

The queer feeling from the day before returned, Ignis’ heart hammering against his ribs. Did he like Gladio? Was that was that meant? A few weeks scarcely seemed like enough time to develop feelings for another person. But then again, how would he know? He’d never truly felt this way before.

He found himself hoping that Gladio would want to join them tonight.

Noctis murmured something to Gladio, who smiled and nodded, closing his book and coming to his feet. He followed the prince back to where Ignis stood.

“Hey, Iggy,” he said, smiling.

“Hello,” Ignis said. “How did you find Cruse’s theory on laissez-faire policies and the free market?”

“Hmm?”

“Your reading material,” Ignis replied.

“Oh, yeah,” Gladio said quickly. “I’m not that familiar with economics, so some of the terms went over my head. But it seemed a pretty sound theory.”

“I see.” Ignis fought to hide his amusement, barely suppressing an uncharacteristic laugh. He hadn’t the heart to tell Gladio that that book contained nothing on laissez-faire economics, and in fact, dallied in much more socialist policies.

Noctis led the way out of the library, walking just enough ahead of them to give them a semblance of privacy.

“So, hear there’s gonna be a party tonight?”

“Is that what Noctis said?” Ignis asked, surprised. “It thought it was just the four of us.”

“Exactly. So, you bringing the booze, or am I?”

Ignis snorted. “I’ll leave that to you.”

“Dark or light? Pick your poison.”

“... were you being serious?”

Gladio grinned. “Nah, can’t drink in front of the kids,” he said. “But… you ever want to come back to my place sometime, I make a mean drink.”

“Oh?”

“My scotch neat is to die for.”

Ignis laughed despite himself this time. “Well, in that case,” he said, looking over at the taller man, “it’s a date.”

This seemed to greatly please Gladio. “Yeah?”

Ignis paused for the merest of moments before nodding. “Of course. I look forward to it.”

“Me too, Iggy. Me too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am completely sorry-not-sorry for all of the tooth-rotting, sugary fluff in this chapter. Have a toothbrush at the ready to fight the cavities.

Luckily for Ignis, Gladio had more than simply scotch in his apartment.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like scotch - on the contrary, he sometimes found the strong, smoky taste to be exactly the sort of pick-me-up he needed after a long day. But it wasn’t the type of alcohol that he preferred to drink very often. It reminded him of special occasions, of formal meetings requiring fancy clothing and old cigars, or wood-paneled libraries with large, ornately carved desks and armchairs.

To be honest, he wouldn’t have pegged Gladio as a scotch drinker. Beer seemed more likely to be his preference, though perhaps that was allowing his judgment to be clouded by stereotypes. He had not noticed a single can of beer since he had set foot in Gladio’s apartment earlier than night.

What he _had_ noticed was the decor.

Gladio’s apartment, set just down the hall from the rooms his sister shared with their father, was small and utilitarian - there was a kitchen, a bathroom, one bedroom and a living space, all painted a light gray color and accented with dark wood. The furniture looked comfortable, lived-in more than fashionable, decorated liberally with personal possessions. A spare pair of shoes there, a stack of worn paperback novels here… it wasn’t precisely messy, but nor was it austere, as Ignis knew his own apartment was.

He was perched nervously on the edge of the couch, a glass of something fruity and sweet in his hands. Gladio was at the counter, mixing another drink for himself. There appeared to be several different kinds of alcohol in it, combined with something that had turned the cocktail a pinkish-orange. It was, surprisingly, good.

Gladio had acted offended when Ignis had mentioned that to him.

“Of course it’s good,” he had said, a slight scowl to his features. “Told you I made a mean cocktail.”

“I thought you were joking,” Ignis had replied. “After all, your one example to support your mixology skills was a scotch neat.”

Despite the pleasant taste, Ignis was hesitant to drink too much of the cocktail too quickly. He didn’t want the alcohol to go to his head; rather, he wanted to remember this moment, this night.

It was the first time they had been alone in Gladio’s apartment. Previously, they had always gone to Ignis’ quarters; for one thing, his rooms were just more conveniently located within the Citadel. Gladio was planning to move closer to the main part of the huge palace eventually, but for now, he remained near his family. Ignis suspected that this had something to do with Iris; Gladio was still responsible for much of her movements throughout the Citadel, their father entrusting him with the task of caring for her much as Ignis had been entrusted with the care of Noctis.

For another, Ignis was comfortable within his own rooms. He was at ease there, and as the host, he had plenty of things to do with his hands. Now, sitting on someone else’s couch in someone’s else home, he found that he had nothing to do, and that made him feel his nerves more acutely.

He took another sip of the cocktail, the cold sip of it refreshing.

Gladio joined him soon thereafter, settling next to him on the couch and putting a pitcher of the drinks on the coffee table. “Now I don’t have to get up to make seconds,” he said gleefully, grinning at Ignis as he sat back and made himself comfortable.

“Where did you learn to make drinks like this?” Ignis asked curiously.

“Nyx Ulric.”

“You must be joking.”

“Hah! Not at all.” Gladio took one large swallow of the liquid and twisted so that he was half-facing Ignis. “He made sure that as soon as I was legal, I knew how to make a decent drink.”

“So Nyx Ulric likes fruity cocktails…”

“Especially if they come with a tiny umbrella.”

Ignis could not help but chuckle at this.

“You laughed.”

He looked up in time to see a slow, surprised smile spreading across Gladio’s face.

Ignis raised an eyebrow. “And…?”

“You never laugh.”

“I _laugh._ ”

“Rarely.”

Ignis rolled his eyes. “Alright, I have been told I internalize my humor.”

“You should laugh more often,” Gladio said quietly. “It sounds nice.”

Ignis felt his cheeks heat and quickly took a large gulp of his drink.

“So,” he said, after clearing his throat to erase the alcohol’s sticky residue, “what is in this particular concoction?”

“Vodka, cranberry juice, orange juice, and peach schnapps.”

Yes, now he could discern the peach. The acidic flavors of cranberry and orange had overwhelmed the sweeter notes of peach, but now that he was looking for it, he believed he could taste it.

“And is this a known cocktail or one of your own creations?”

“Oh, no, it’s a standard recipe,” Gladio replied easily, taking another swig of his own drink. “Sex on the beach.”

Ignis choked.

Gladio had to clap him on the back a couple times before he could speak again, and even then, he was at a loss for words. Perhaps he was reading too much into this. Yes, judging from the confused look on Gladio’s face, Ignis was _most definitely_ reading too much into this. But was it wishful thinking inspired by the drink’s name, or just him being too analytical for his own good?

“I think that’s enough of that for now,” he said, setting his now empty cup down on the table.

“Sure you don’t want another?” Gladio asked.

“Maybe later.”

Gladio shrugged and refilled his own cup, emptied much quicker than Ignis’. With a quick movement, he propped his bare feet up on the coffee table, sinking back even further into the couch cushions. He was very relaxed, wearing nothing but a pair of loose cotton pants and a dark tank top. Ignis, of course, was dressed in his standard button-up and slacks, shoes still tightly laced on his feet. He had contemplated wearing more casual clothing, but had quickly decided against it. It felt strange to think of wearing those clothes in another’s presence.

Especially Gladio’s presence.

He couldn’t quite say why that was. Clearly, the other was comfortable wearing his lounge clothing in Ignis’ presence. But then again, Gladio always seemed to be at ease with himself, no matter where they were or what they were doing.

“So I have another appointment at the tattoo shop next week,” Gladio said suddenly, drawing Ignis from his thoughts. The larger man was looking down at his arms speculatively, the simple lines of his new tattoo having long since finished healing.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, gotta do the shading still.”

“Will that hurt?” 

“The first session wasn't too bad,” Gladio replied. “Felt more annoying than anything, to be honest. The artist told me the shading hurts worse than the lining though, especially on big pieces like this. Different sort of needles.”

“I see.” 

“I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

Ignis blinked to hide his surprise.

“You don’t have to,” Gladio continued when Ignis remained silent. “I just thought it would be nice to have someone to talk to. It takes a long time, gets kinda boring.”

“When are you going?”

“Tuesday, ‘round noon.”

“I...I believe I can work that into my schedule. I will have to leave to go and pick up Noctis from school, of course.”

“‘Course.” Gladio smiled and took another drink, seemingly pleased with Ignis’ answer. “Maybe it’ll even convince you to get some work done.”

“I don’t think so,” Ignis said quickly, shaking his head.

“You never been interested in getting a tattoo?”

“Not particularly.”

“Do you not like them?”

“It isn’t that,” Ignis replied. “I’ve never really wanted one, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to get one just for the sake of having it.” He contemplated the dark lines inked into Gladio’s skin, his eyes following the curving design up the toned muscles of his arms and across the flat planes of his chest. “They’re alright on other people though.”

Gladio didn’t miss his gaze. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, smirking.

Ignis ignored him. “I wonder,” he said instead, “does the skin with the tattoo feel different than the skin without?” One of his fingers twitched involuntarily, as if responding to an unspoken desire to reach out and touch the other’s skin, to answer his question for himself.

“See for yourself,” Gladio replied, sitting up and setting his drink on the table. He then held out his arm in invitation, keeping it just far enough away that Ignis could refuse if he wanted.

He didn’t.

Perhaps it was the alcohol making him bold (which was unlikely given the rather small amount he'd imbibed) or maybe it was just the other’s open encouragement. But Ignis reached his hand out, fingers settling lightly upon the skin of Gladio’s shoulder, and before he could convince himself to stop, he had begun to trace the lines. The other made a happy, contented sound, and Ignis looked up, surprised, but Gladio wasn’t looking at him. His eyes had slipped closed, head laid back against the couch.

Ignis was suddenly aware of the intimacy of this moment, and he hesitated. Did he press forward? Or did he stop, withdraw, retreat? Noctis’ words from the previous week came back to him - _“He likes you. Do you like him?”_

He had never _disliked_ Gladio, even before they had begun to associate with one another outside of their duty to the prince. Rather, he had been decidedly neutral. But he had very quickly come to enjoy the other’s company, to look forward to the times they scheduled to meet. Gladio could be frustrating at times, and there were certainly things that he and Ignis disagreed upon, but they had much more in common than Ignis had previously thought.

They could spend hours talking about subjects Ignis would never broach with Noctis. There were certain things that the prince - or any of his other friends, to be perfectly honest - would simply never understand that Gladio just _got._ Somehow, this past month or so, the two of them had forged a connection, a bond of sorts.

But dare he see if that bond was more than simply platonic?

_He likes you._

Or so Noctis believed.

_Do you like him?_

Was “like” a good enough word for the jittery, excited feeling he experienced of late whenever Gladio suggested that they do something together? Was “like” appropriate for the thrill he felt when Gladio paid him a compliment, or defended his actions? Was “like” the right term for the heat that lanced through him when he noticed the other’s impending height or strong musculature from across the room?

Ignis had always prided himself on his vocabulary. As such, it was immensely disappointing that he was reduced to contemplate using the word “like” to describe his feelings for Gladio. Surely there was a better term out there, something more descriptive and truthful.

One liked certain foods. One liked specific books.

Thus “like” was entirely inadequate for his feelings for Gladio.

But then… what was the appropriate term?  

“What’s the verdict?”

Ignis froze, realizing that he had been stroking Gladio’s arm in silence for the past few minutes. The other hadn’t said anything, and he had been too caught up in his own thoughts to notice what his hands had been doing of their own accord.

“You don’t have to stop,” Gladio said easily, “it feels good.”

Slowly, Ignis resumed his movements, if only to actually get the answer to his question this time. He certainly hadn’t been paying attention before.

The skin beneath his fingertips was warm and surprisingly smooth. He passed his fingers over a dark line once, and then twice, but could detect little difference between the two patches of skin. He thought the inky lines might be slightly raised, but it was such a small difference as to be almost undetectable.

“It feels… mostly the same,” Ignis finally replied, withdrawing his hand for good. He settled it in his lap, clasping it firmly against his other palm.

Gladio was watching him curiously. “Took you a while to answer,” he said quietly. “Something on your mind?”

_Yes, you._

“Might I ask you something?”

Gladio grinned. “You just did,” he replied. “But yeah. Shoot.”

“Why do you keep coming to the library?”

Gladio blinked. “What?” Clearly, he hadn’t expected that question.

Ignis repeated his question.

“Oh.” Gladio paused, and then said, “Well, to be honest, I came to see you.”

It was back again, that strange, indescribable feeling emanating from his midsection. Accompanying it this time was his heart hammering against his ribcage. Was it possible that Gladio could hear it?

“Me?” he murmured.

“Yeah. You read a lot.”

“...you hardly needed to go to the library to know that.”

“It’s more than that,” Gladio retorted. “Look, the first time I saw you there, the espresso machine at the little coffee kiosk broke. It was chaos - the thing was hissing, steam pouring out the top, glass shattering, the barista was screaming, there was hot coffee everywhere… and you just kept reading. None of it fazed you. I don’t even think you looked up. It was amazing. You were so damn focused. I couldn’t believe anyone could be so dedicated to their work. And I thought, _man,_  I have got to get to know that guy.”

Ignis frowned. “But you never said anything to me,” he pointed out. “You never approached me.”

“Would you believe I couldn’t think of anything to say?” Gladio chuckled. “I kept trying to come up with something clever. I should’ve just done it, yeah? Just walked over and said, ‘Hey, I like you. Wanna grab coffee sometime?’”

_Hey, I like you._

Ignis did not consider himself reactionary. When something happened, he was the first to take a step back, analyze the facts, and come up with a plan of attack. He was a strategist. He knew that, prided himself on his cool use of logic.

None of that explained the surge of emotion that welled up within him at Gladio’s words. There was nothing logical about how elated those four little words made him feel. His hands were shaking, he realized. He looked down at them distractedly, observing them as if they were not his own. 

Gladio moved swiftly, taking one of his hands in his own. “You’re trembling,” he murmured, amber eyes on Ignis’ palm. He sounded concerned. “You alright?”

“I…” Ignis swallowed to ease the dryness in his throat. “I want to try something.”

“Okay.”

“Please, sit still.”

Gladio obeyed, though he kept his grip on Ignis’ hand.

Ignis moved closer to the other man, close enough that their knees were touching. Gladio’s eyes flicked down to the point of contact, and then back to Ignis’ face. _He trusts me,_ Ignis realized then, finally realizing what that glint was in Gladio’s eyes. _He would let me do anything that I wanted._

The thought emboldened him.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Gladio’s in a soft, chaste kiss. He heard the other’s sharp intake of breath, and physically _felt_ him restrain himself from moving in a monumental effort at self-control. It was short, no more than a moment passing before Ignis pulled away, his face scant inches from Gladio's. At this distance, he could see the darker flecks of brown in the other's eyes, how long his eyelashes were.

They were beautiful, and he was struck with a sudden desire to kiss them too.

“Oh,” he breathed, something clicking in his mind.

_Do you like him?_

_Yes. By the Six, I do._

“Iggy. Can I move now?”

Ignis froze, suddenly terrified that he had made a most grievous mistake. “Forgive me,” he said quickly, pulling back. Or at least, he attempted to - Gladio held him fast, hands darting out to keep Ignis in place.

“Forgive you?” Gladio repeated.

“I acted without thinking,” Ignis continued. “I was testing a hypothesis-”

“What?”

Ignis huffed out a short breath of frustration. “I needed to see what it would feel like-”

“What _what_ would feel like?”

“Kissing you! Was that not obvious?” Uncertainty was making him snappy, and though he knew it was unbecoming in him, he found his quips hard to contain. “As I said, I was attempting to confirm a hypothesis, but I see now that I have-”

“Iggy-”

“ _Yes?"_

“Will you stop talking so I can kiss you?”

Ignis snapped his lips shut.

And then Gladio was kissing him, his lips gentle but insistent. Heat surged through Ignis at the contact, breath catching in his throat. Gladio shifted, sitting up and using his hold on Ignis’ hand to bring them closer. His other hand curled around Ignis’ back, drawing him in close and keeping him there. As if Ignis had any desire to go anywhere else.

He pressed in closer, hands flitting up Gladio’s arms and shoulders, hooking underneath the straps of his tank top and pulling him forward.

Gladio groaned, moving one of his hands up to Ignis’ face as he deepened the kiss. He tasted sweet, like fruit, and Ignis couldn’t get enough, his tongue rising to meet Gladio’s. A sharp nip at his lower lip drew an unexpected moan from him, and Gladio jerked back. He stared at Ignis for a moment, pupils dark with something Ignis could only describe as want, and then surged forward, kissing him again, his mouth, his face, his neck.

Somehow, Ignis’ shirt came untucked, and Gladio’s tank top began to ride up, their hands unable to resist the urge to explore as their mouths moved together. Fingers danced across Ignis’ back and sides, making his breath hitch. Each touch was deliberately placed in an attempt to elicit a reaction, and he didn’t stop the pleased noises such motions evoked.

Gladio seemed to relish them, lips twisting into a smile when he dragged a nail against Ignis’ hip and provoked a long, drawn-out moan. The intensity of his reaction startled Ignis, and he pulled back, suddenly uncertain.

“What is it?” Gladio murmured. His lips were swollen from their lengthy kissing, hair disheveled from where Ignis had ran his fingers through it, and it took all of Ignis’ strength to sit back a little and garner his thoughts instead of leaning back in and kissing him again. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” he said quickly, “nothing is wrong. It’s just-”

“Too much too soon?” Gladio nodded, intuitively sensing the reason for his hesitancy, and sat back against the couch, though he kept his grip on Ignis’ hands.

“It isn’t that I don’t want more,” Ignis said, voice soft.

“You don’t have to explain it to me, Iggy.” Gladio tilted his head to the side then, eyes narrowing quizzically. “What were you saying earlier? You were...testing a hypothesis, you said?”

“I needed to see what it would feel like. Kissing you.”

“...and?”

“It was…”

“Nothing short of sheer, utter perfection?” Gladio offered, smirking.

Ignis rolled his eyes, the slight tension between them melting away effortlessly. “That is not the phrase I would use,” he retorted.

“No,” Gladio agreed, “you’d use some big, fancy words that sound real nice.”

“Hmm.”

“Come on, you know you would.”

“Perhaps.”

Gladio chuckled, sitting up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you kissed me,” he whispered, breath fanning against Ignis’ cheek. One of his thumbs was rubbing circles against the underside of Ignis’ wrist, and it was terribly, maddeningly distracting. “I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Gladio shrugged. “I thought I made it pretty obvious how I feel,” he answered. “I figured that if you ever felt the same, you’d do something. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t.”

Ignis could not argue with that logic.

Nor could he argue with the sudden ringing of his phone. Surprised, Ignis grabbed it from his pocket, looking down at the screen irritably for ruining this moment.

“Who is it?”

“No one,” Ignis replied. “It’s just an alarm, telling me to go to sleep.”

“...you have an alarm for when to _go_ to bed?”

“I have to, otherwise I will end up working far later than I should.”

“You’re weird.”

"I'm _responsible_. I also need to be going." 

"Do you have to?"

Ignis' slight irritation faded away at the tone of Gladio's voice. His gaze softened as he nodded. "I'm afraid so," he murmured.

Gladio sighed and nodded, loosening his grip on Ignis so the other could get to his feet. Gladio followed suit, slipping into a pair of shoes as Ignis grabbed his coat and the keys to his apartment. He expected Gladio to merely walk him to the door, but to his surprise, the other joined him out in the hall.

“Going somewhere?” he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

Gladio shrugged. “Thought I’d walk you back to your apartment,” he replied.

Ignis would never admit to anyone - least of all Gladio - how happy this made him.

He gave a curt nod, and they set off down the hall, heading for the elevator that would take them to Ignis’ floor. Despite the disparity in their heights, their strides were in sync as they moved, hands brushing occasionally. Sometimes, Gladio would grab his littlest finger for the smallest of moments, just long enough to let Ignis know he’d done it on purpose.

All too soon they were outside Ignis’ door.

Ignis turned around, looking up at Gladio. “Thank you for accompanying me back,” he said, unsure of what else to say.

Gladio just smiled at him. He looked both ways, making sure they were alone, before leaning down and pressing one last kiss to Ignis’ lips. “Night, Iggy,” he murmured. He took a step back down the hall towards the elevator. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Ignis called, unable to resist asking.

Gladio grinned at him. 

  
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	7. Chapter 7

“We’re going to be late.”

“Nonsense, we have plenty of time!”

Ignis pursed his lips to keep himself from making a quick retort.

Gladio walked out of his bedroom, a towel slung low over his hips, eyes scouring the living room. “Have you seen my black sweats?” he asked. “The ones with the gray drawstring?”

“Where did you put them last?”

“I kicked ‘em off last night when I got back from training,” Gladio replied, ducking low to see if the pants were somehow underneath the couch. “I didn’t see where they went.”

Ignis stood and dutifully began to look around the small room for the missing pants. His efforts were only half-hearted, truth be told; he was much more interested in looking at Gladio’s bare back, water droplets running down his skin.  “Is there a particular reason you need these pants specifically?” he asked, his voice a little higher than normal. He scowled at that; he wasn't twelve anymore. He hardly needed his voice to still sound like it was breaking.

“Well, they’re old.”

Was that supposed to have meant something to Ignis? He wasn’t sure.

“You don’t want to get a tattoo in nice clothes,” Gladio continued, flipping over the couch pillows. “You’ll get crap all over them and ruin ‘em.”

“But you aren’t getting a tattoo on your legs.” Ignis walked around a table, trying to keep his eyes on the floor instead of on Gladio’s trapezius muscles.

“Yeah, well, they’re comfy, alright? I want to be comfy.”

Ignis looked down as he stumbled upon something. He took a step back and saw a pant leg extending from beneath a chair. Bending down, he retrieved the pants and held them out to Gladio. “Are these them?” he asked.

“Hey, you found ‘em!” Gladio reached out and happily accepted the pants, dropping the towel and moving to put them on without so much as a warning. Ignis flushed and pointedly looked away from the other’s nudity, a now familiar warmth rising up within him. He pushed the arousal away, refusing to let it master him - they had places to go and things to do, and now was _not_ the time for distractions. They were already running late.

Gladio seemed completely nonplussed at the thought of being naked around Ignis. Of course, this wasn’t entirely surprising. Spending a lifetime bathing in communal locker room showers had a tendency to eliminate that type of shyness, especially if, like Gladio, you had no physical imperfections to speak of. But Ignis still felt a little odd looking, as if he were seeing something that he had no right to see.

A warm hand closed around his wrist. “Sorry,” Gladio murmured. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Of course not.” Ignis answered a little too quickly, and they both knew he was lying. “It's your apartment. You may do whatever you wish.”

“Yeah, but I forget this is new to you.”

Ignis had disclosed his romantic experience - or rather, the almost complete lack thereof - to Gladio, not wanting to mislead the other with notions that he was more skilled than he was. To his credit, the other hadn’t seemed deterred by this news at all. He had been quick to assure Ignis that that didn’t matter, that he was willing to move things along as slowly as Ignis wanted.

The problem was that Ignis did not necessarily _want_ for things to move slowly. Now that he had put a proper name to his feelings for Gladio, he very much wanted to do all of the things those feelings normally entailed. It was simply that he was entirely unsure of how to proceed. Was he allowed to ask for what he wanted, as easily as that? Did he need to employ euphemisms, or were simple words better? Should he just act and hope that Gladio could guess his intent? Or maybe-

“Hey. You still with me?”

Ignis blinked. “Yes, of course,” he said, welcoming the distraction. He looked down at his watch, which now read eleven thirty-nine. “We should leave, though, if we wish to make it to your appointment on time.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Gladio muttered, dropping Ignis’ hand so he could retreat into the bedroom for a moment. When he returned, he was fully dressed, a small drawstring gym bag in one of his hands. He cocked an eyebrow at Ignis. “Ready?”

Ignis nodded, and together they left the Citadel.

“It’s not far from here,” Gladio said as they walked out into the sunshine. He pointed west. “It’s just a couple blocks that way.”

“So how did you pick this particular shop?” Ignis asked curiously, matching his stride to Gladio’s.

“I looked around, trying to find an artist whose style I liked. Once I found Julius, it was pretty easy. I just called him, set up a time to meet, and then we talked about what I wanted.”

“I see.”

“It’s not so much about the shop as it is about the artist,” Gladio continued. “I mean, yeah, you want to go someplace clean, somewhere that gets rid of their needles right and sanitizes everything. But most shops do that, or else they get shut down by the health department. So it’s more about the artwork than anything.”

“And this...Julius. He’s good?”

Gladio grinned. “The best.”

They arrived at the shop a few moments later. It was a small storefront, with large glass windows that enabled the public to see the building’s interior. There was a small waiting area just inside the door, with little black couches for people to sit on and a rack of magazines in the corner, the covers all emblazoned with men and women covered in tattoos. Picture frames filled with stylized drawings adorned the walls, so much so that it was hard to discern the color of the paint. The back half of the building was divided into cubicles by a series of half-walls, and each cubicle was filled with the various accoutrements of the tattoo industry - inks, machines, drawings, pens, pencils and various paper towels and ointments. 

A man had stood up when they had entered. He was rather short, with wiry brown hair and a patchy beard, and what Ignis could see of his arms was completely covered in tattoos.

“Gladio!” The man stepped forward with a smile on his face, holding out a hand. “My man!”

“Julius!”

“Nice to see you! You ready for this?”

“Definitely.”

Julius’ eyes flicked over to Ignis, who had been standing silent. “And who’s this?”

“Julius, I’d like you to meet Ignis,” Gladio said, motioning for Ignis to step forward.

Ignis took the hand Julius proffered. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

“Ah, so _this_ is Ignis.” Julius smiled and then looked back at Gladio. “He’s the one you told me about last time?”

Gladio _blushed._

It wasn’t as pronounced a shade of red as Ignis’ face was when he flushed, of course. Gladio’s natural skin tone was much darker, golden tan instead of fair. But it was a blush nonetheless, and Ignis’ curiosity was eclipsed only by his surprise.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Gladio replied, his voice sheepish. He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “So, uh, do we just get started?”

Julius didn’t miss the abrupt change of topic, but he didn’t push Gladio. “Yeah, come on back!” he said, waving towards his cubicle. “You coming, Ignis, or do you want to sit in the waiting area?”

Gladio looked at him expectantly, and Ignis quickly said, “I’ll come.”

The happy smile Gladio sent him told him that he had made the right choice.

Julius pulled out a metal folding chair for Ignis, and then quickly began to adjust a reclining chair in the middle of the cubicle. Gladio pulled his tank top off his shoulders. Ignis held out a hand for it, figuring that he might as make himself useful and hold Gladio's things. Gladio grinned at that, willingly handing over the article of clothing and the gym bag.

“Alright, have a seat,” Julius said.

Gladio did as he instructed, settling easily into the padded chair. Ignis rather thought he made it look like a throne.  

“So today we’re just doing the shading and fine details, right?” Julius asked. He barked out a laugh before Gladio could reply. “ _Just,_ he says.”

“Sounds about right.”

Julius leaned down to inspect the lines covering Gladio’s arms and shoulders. “Mmm, this has healed up nicely,” he said, reaching out to turn Gladio’s arm so that he could see all of the work. “I don’t think I’ll be able to do more than one arm today though. Only so many hours in a day and all.”

He pulled out a little collapsible tray table and set it beside Gladio’s chair, adjusting it to the right height before he began placing his various tools upon the surface. Ignis watched him work, fascinated by all of the little things Julius was doing. There were tiny little plastic caps that the artist attached to the sanitary paper lining the tray. These he filled with various amounts of black ink; some he mixed with water, and others he left alone. Next, he took out a disposable razor and began shaving the hair off Gladio’s right arm.  Once the skin was smooth as could be, Julius began to set up his tattoo machines. A small gun-shaped object, attached to a pedal that sat on the floor, it let out several staccato buzzes as Julius tested it. Ignis swallowed nervously, surprised at how ominous the noise sounded to him.

He looked up at Gladio as Julius began to work. If the process of having needles repeatedly pounded into his skin was painful, nothing on Gladio’s face showed for it. He expression was impassive, mildly curious as he watched Julius work.

Ignis soon found himself captivated by the progress. True to Gladio’s words, Julius was very good at what he did. He worked quickly, but efficiently, going over each section of skin until he had achieved just the right amount of shading. The lines began to fill, feathers becoming voluminous and talons coming to life against Gladio’s skin. Ignis could have watched it for hours and never grown bored.

He and Gladio spoke occasionally, talking about nothing in particular as Julius worked. Sometimes, the artist would add his thoughts to the conversation. He was very easygoing, Ignis noticed, with a quick sense of humor that had Gladio fighting to remain still in the chair. He was impressed the the artist was able to continue working while he talked. He would have thought that the process of tattooing required immense concentration.  

But all too soon, it was time for him to leave so that he could pick Noctis up from school.

“I’ll see you tonight?” Gladio asked after he announced that he had to get going.

“I promise to stop by,” Ignis replied, “though it may be late.”

“Okay.” Gladio smiled at him. “See you. I’ll probably be here for a couple more hours.”

Julius snorted. “You’ll be lucky to get out of here before closing time,” he muttered.

“What? That long, still?”

“That’s what you get for wanting full-on sleeves, man,” Julius had retorted.

Gladio groaned. “My ass hurts.”

“Mmhmm. It’s killing me too.”

“You wanna switch places?”

“Nah,” Julius replied, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t be able to get to your arms then, you big behemoth.”

Ignis snorted, listening to the two of them as he exited the shop.

_Behemoth indeed._

* * * * *

Ignis did not have a chance to visit Gladio until nearly midnight.

He knocked on the door to the other’s apartment quietly, trying not to disturb the hall’s other inhabitants, and to his relief, he was answered immediately. Gladio smiled at him and all but pulled him through the threshold, hand lingering on his skin.

“Hey,” he said in greeting, leaning in to press a swift kiss to Ignis’ lips.

“Good evening,” Ignis replied.

There was a long temporary bandage applied to Gladio’s arm, accompanied by the strong smell of antiseptic. Gladio noticed his gaze and motioned for Ignis to follow him. “I was just about to take this off,” he said. “You want to see it?”

Ignis nodded and followed Gladio into the bathroom.

Gladio perched himself onto the counter, looking down at the bandage taped to his arm. “Doesn’t look like it’s gonna come off easily,” he muttered, plucking at one of the pieces of tape.  He grimaced as it pulled on his skin, leaving an angry red mark in its wake.

“Here, let me,” Ignis offered, stepping forward. He made quick work of the tape, using one hand to keep Gladio’s arm steady and the other to remove the adhesive strips.

“You’re good at this,” Gladio commented, watching Ignis’ hands move across his arm.

“I have been trained in basic first aid,” Ignis replied, removing the last bit of tape. “Applying and removing temporary bandages was practically an entire chapter in the course.”

“Sounds like a dull chapter.”

“Extremely.” Having finished, Ignis peeled back the bandage to reveal the red, oozing skin beneath. He was taken aback by how much the flesh was weeping, blood and plasma smeared all across the surface of the tattoo. His breath must have caught in his throat, for Gladio quickly explained that that was the body’s natural reaction to the process, and that this was completely normal.

“Does it hurt?” Ignis asked. He raised a hand to examine the tattoo more closely, and then thought better of it, returning his hand to his side. He probably wasn’t supposed to touch it.

“Yeah, it’s definitely sore,” Gladio replied, chuckling. “Won’t be able to lay on that side for a few days.” He leaned over to grab a clean washcloth and a bottle of plain, white soap. “And now comes the fun part.”

Gladio used warm water to gently remove the plasma and dried blood from the skin of his arm, grunting when the rough fabric hit his inflamed skin. Ignis watched as the excess ink disappeared, the lines of the tattoo much clearer and more precise now.

“It’s so...swollen,” he said. It shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did - it _was_ a wound, after all, and wounds tended to swell when they became inflamed. But he hadn’t been prepared for exactly _how_ red and puffy the skin appeared.

“Hurts like a bitch too,” Gladio muttered, pouring some of the soap in his opposite palm and gently applying it to the new tattoo. He jerked his chin in the direction of the medicine cabinet at Ignis’ elbow. “Get me some anti-inflammatories, will you? They’ll help with the swelling.”

Ignis ducked into the cabinet, searching for the tiny bottle of medicine. One he found it, he popped off the lid and let two pills slide into his palm. There was a glass at the side of the counter. After checking to make sure that it was adequately clean, he filled it with water and handed it and the pills to Gladio, who had since finished washing up.

“Thanks,” the other said gratefully.

“So what...now?” Ignis asked.

“Now?” Gladio repeated.

“With the tattoo,” Ignis clarified. “What is the next step?”

“Well, it’ll be sore for a few days,” Gladio replied. “In that time, I’ll need to keep it moisturized so that the skin doesn’t crack. And then it’ll start peeling.”

“Peeling?” Ignis asked, taken aback.

“Yeah, like a sunburn.” Gladio snorted. “A damn _annoying_ sunburn. Patches of skin everywhere. Last time, I felt like I was _molting._ ”

“Well, the tattoo does feature  _birds,_ ” Ignis said wryly. “Maybe you were.”

Gladio barked out a laugh and stepped off the counter.  “Funny,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss Ignis.

Ignis pressed into him, careful to avoid his newly tattooed arm. He wrapped a hand around Gladio’s waist instead, fingers curling in the thin fabric of his shirt. The larger man made an appreciative noise at this and pushed him back against the wall, tilting his head so that he could deepen the kiss. His tongue poked at Ignis’ lips, tracing the shape of them until they parted beneath him.

Ignis quickly lost himself in the kiss, and he sighed happily when Gladio pulled a little closer to him, nipping at his lower lip with his teeth. His hand shifted, reaching lower to grab the hem of the tank top and push it away so that he could get to the warm skin underneath. The muscles in Gladio’s midsection were taut even when he was relaxed, and Ignis took delight in running his fingers across the dips and curves.

“That feels nice,” Gladio murmured, pulling away just far enough that he could look down at Ignis. His pupils were blown wide with arousal, and Ignis tried to look away, the heat from such a gaze making him fidget. But Gladio held him fast, tilting his chin up so that he had no choice but to look straight ahead. “Hey. You don’t have to look away.”

Of course he didn’t _have_ to look away. But he found that he was never quite prepared for the unabashed heat in Gladio’s eyes, for the blatant longing. He wasn’t used to being looked at in that sort of way. It made his heart stutter within his chest, made his stomach feel as though it might drop out of his body. And it made him want to do many, many things that he hadn’t the slightest clue how to initiate.

Gladio, not able to hear his internal monologue, kissed him again, more insistent this time, and Ignis quickly pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind. Instead, he pressed up into the kiss, moving his hand from the other’s abdomen to his neck. Gladio’s tank top stayed where it was, and when he leaned forward into Ignis, the warmth of his body seeped through the light fabric.

Ignis was suddenly irritated, frustrated that there was any barrier between their skin at all. He wanted to feel the heat of Gladio’s body against his. Clumsily, he attempted to reach between them, fumbling for the buttons of his shirt. But the angle was too awkward, and he couldn’t manage it. With a frustrated little huff, he pulled himself back, trying to get more space. Gladio quickly realized what he was doing a second later and reached to help, his fingers working his way through the buttons with far more efficiency. He pushed the fabric away from Ignis’ shoulder as soon as he was able, and then leaned down, dragging his mouth across the newly exposed skin.

The movement tore a moan from Ignis’ throat, and he tilted his head back so that it lay against the wall. The tile was cool against his face, but that only served to make Gladio’s mouth seem even hotter in comparison.

“Gladio-”

“Hmm?”

Ignis plucked at the bottom of the other’s tank top, trying to signal that he wanted it gone. Gladio stared at him for one, excruciatingly long second, and then he yanked the piece of clothing over his head, letting it drop to the floor beside his feet.

He had seen Gladio without a shirt many times before - in the training rooms, exercising, outside on a hot summer’s day… even this morning, he had seen Gladio emerge from the shower in naught but a towel. But never before had he been allowed to touch as well as observe, and Ignis felt a small shiver of delight run through him as he allowed himself to bring his fingers to the other’s torso. His hands passed over firm pectoral muscles and across taut abdominal muscles. Gladio’s skin was surprisingly smooth here, only a few tiny scars to speak of and very little hair save for a dark trail leading down into his pants. This too, Ignis explored with his hands, and Gladio’s breath hitched, his hips giving a little jerk.

“Sorry,” he breathed into Ignis’ neck, noticing how his breath had caught in his lungs. “That’s a sensitive spot.”

Curiously, Ignis ran his fingers across the expanse of flesh again, and this time, he was rewarded with a lengthy moan.

“Shit, Iggy, you have to stop doing that.”

“Or what?” Ignis challenged, feeling emboldened by Gladio’s response.

Gladio chuckled, nipping at the skin under his jaw. “You’re already challenging my self-control,” he said, his voice low and rougher than before. He stood up then, pressing his hips forward, and Ignis flushed as he felt the other’s very obvious arousal against his thigh.

He went very still, and a moment later, Gladio withdrew, bending down to pick up his tank top.

“I’m sorry,” Ignis said automatically.

Gladio waved him off. “Don’t be,” he replied.

"I..."

"Iggy, relax." Gladio smiled encouragingly at him. "There's no rush."

Ignis supposed this was true, and he nodded. Reaching down, he pulled his shirt back onto both of his shoulders, noticing - and attempting to ignore - the red marks Gladio had left upon the skin. With slightly shaky fingers, he began to redo the buttons, trying to put his appearance back in order.

Gladio chuckled, and he looked up curiously.

“You have no idea how good you look right now.”

Ignis frowned. “Hmm?”

The other pointed to the mirror and Ignis turned to look at himself. He almost didn’t recognize the reflection. His fair skin was flushed pink, and his eyes were foreign, nearly black with how dilated the pupils were. His hair, normally kept very neat and styled, was mussed, strands falling everywhere. And perhaps most startling of all, a small red mark was beginning to appear at the base of his jaw, evidence of Gladio’s affection.

“I looked thoroughly debauched,” he mused, unable to decide whether the changes in his appearance were good or bad.

_That mark, however, is definitely bad. I will need to cover it up somehow._

Gladio embraced him from behind, resting his chin on Ignis’ shoulder. “It’s a good look.”

Ignis sighed, and halfway through the sound turned into a yawn. “What time is it?” he asked, looking down at his watch in answer to his own question. The backlit face read twelve fifty-eight.

Gladio saw the numbers and sighed against him. “Time for you to leave?” he guessed.

“I have to,” Ignis reminded him. “Noctis has several exams this week, and I promised that I would help him with some last minute studying.”

He snorted. “Figures.” He drew back then, allowing Ignis to leave the bathroom before him. They walked out to the living area, where Ignis sat down and began to pull his shoes back onto his feet. “Hey, speaking of promises…”

Ignis looked up. “Yes?”

“So, I kind of promised Iris that I would ask you to make her a birthday cake,” Gladio admitted. “She, uh, wants it to be ‘special’.”

“And she thinks I am capable of making such a cake?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Hmm.” Ignis rose to his feet and went to retrieve his coat. “And you told her I would do this?”

“I just said I’d ask,” Gladio said quickly - too quickly. Ignis raised an eyebrow at him, and he groaned, deflating. “Okay, I told her you’d make it.”

“And when is Iris’ birthday?”

“This Friday.”

“Friday?” Ignis asked sharply. “In _three days_?”

“Yeah?”

“And what sort of cake does she want?” Gladio hesitated, and Ignis scowled at him. “Gladio…”

“She wants that chocolate torte that’s in the book I let you borrow.”

Ignis pinched a finger to the bridge of his nose, hoping that Gladio didn’t mean the dessert he _thought_ he meant. “The _dark chocolate and salted caramel torte with a bourbon creme_?” he demanded.

“Uh, yeah. Sounds about right.”

Of course it was that dessert. Just his luck.

Ignis counted to ten in his head, forcing himself not to speak until he had managed to get there. “Do you know how many ingredients that dessert takes?” he asked quietly.

“Iggy, I’m sorry-”

“Where am I going to find decent bourbon?”

“A liquor store?”

“And I need a very specific kind of baking chocolate, one with exactly seventy-two percent cacao!”

“Look, I’ll help you find everything you need-”

“You had _better_.”

He stared at Gladio, who was watching him rather sheepishly. For a moment, neither of them said anything. And then Gladio shot him a tentative grin, and Ignis felt his resistance crumble.

“You are very lucky I like you,” he snapped, moving towards the door to the apartment.

Gladio caught his hand just as he turned to leave. “I know I am,” he said. He darted in and pressed a quick kiss to Ignis’ mouth, retreating before the other could push him off. “Thanks, Iggy. I owe you.”

“Yes, well… I suppose I can think of a suitable way you can repay me.”

He was rewarded with a wink. “If you need suggestions, I can think of a few." Gladio's expression turned serious then, and he added, "You want me to walk you back?”

“That’s not necessary,” Ignis said quietly. It was true, but not the entirety of it. He would very much have liked for Gladio to walk him back - but at one o’clock in the morning, such a thing would be sure to attract unwanted attention. It was better that he make the return trip alone.

“Okay.”

“Good night, Gladio.”

Gladio could not resist giving him one more, lingering kiss, and Ignis leaned into it willingly.

  
“Night, Iggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really feel for Gladio. Having also sat through a 10-hour tattoo session, I can say for a fact that that shit ain't fun.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to give a research presentation today. So after I had finished, as a reward, I wrote 4000 words of ooey gooey sickeningly sweet fluff instead of the 50 page literature review I'm supposed to be doing. 
> 
> Priorities.
> 
> Just as an additional tag for this chapter: references to underage drinking (though everyone is at least 16, so depending on where you're from, that might not be underage at all)

Ignis arrived early at the Amicitia apartments that Friday, shuffling bags around in his hands so that he could knock at the door.

He had been planning to make the chocolate torte the night before. It was a lengthy process, and he wanted to make sure that it turned out alright before he presented it to people. But Gladio had informed him, rather sheepishly, it might be noted, that Iris wanted to help him to make it. She wanted to learn how to bake, he had said, and who better to teach her than Ignis?

Well, he wasn’t going to disagree with that, and not just because he was entirely flattered.

The door opened, and Ignis found a small, female face beaming up at him.

“Iggy!”

To his surprise, Iris jumped forward and hugged him around the midsection. Laden down with grocery bags as he was, he was unable to return the gesture, but it was no matter, for she soon jumped back and ushered him through the door.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” she said. “Gladdy’s been gone for hours now.”

Ignis blinked at her back as he followed her through the living area into a spacious kitchen. “You’re here alone?” he asked.

“Yep!” She climbed onto a stool near the counter, watching as he set the bags down and began to remove the ingredients, putting them into neat piles based on when he would need them. “He said he was going to go and train for a while, but I know he’s really buying my present.” She said this with a conspiratorial grin that informed Ignis he was in on the secret.

He couldn’t help but smile at this. “That does sound like Gladio,” he allowed.

“He’s been gone for _forever_ now though, so he should be back soon. But don’t tell him I know where he really was!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he agreed. He moved to the oven, setting it to preheat before he set about locating mixing bowls and measuring cups. “Is your father here?”

“No.” Iris sounded a little sad as she said this, and Ignis looked over to her to make sure she was alright. “Daddy’s with the King. He won’t be at the party.” There was a weak smile on her lips, and a look in her eyes that told Ignis this happened every year on her birthday.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Iris,” he said gently, unsure of how to comfort her.

Her smile widened, and when she blinked, the sadness was gone, replaced with the infectious joy that was her hallmark. “Oh, don’t be! He has to protect the King and all. But he’ll come home after the party, and he said I could stay up late and we’d watch a movie together!”

Iris quickly turned inquisitive, scooting her stool closer so that she could see everything Ignis was doing. She asked all sorts of questions, and Ignis was happy to answer. She was very intuitive about baking, he found, sensing whatever ingredient or tool he needed just before he required it and pressing it into his palm. In that way, she seemed to be very much like Gladio; the both of them read people very well, but instead of being disconcerting, it was endearing.  

“How long do we have to bake it for?” Iris asked, watching as Ignis pushed the cake into the oven.

“Thirty to thirty-five minutes,” he replied. “We’ll check it at thirty and see how it’s doing.”

“Okay!” She looked around at the countertop, many ingredients still lying unused upon its surface. “So what do we do now?”

“First, let’s make the bourbon creme,” Ignis suggested. “Can you get the heavy cream out of the refrigerator?” He pulled out a bottle of liquor and set about opening it as Iris hopped off the stool to do as he’d asked.

She returned a moment later, a tall glass bottle in her hands. She gave this to Ignis and then scrambled back onto the stool, leaning forward to smell the bourbon. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Yuck! That goes in the cream?” She eyed the brown liquid suspiciously.

Ignis chuckled. “I assure you, the sweetness of the sugar will mask the taste of the bourbon.”

“If you say so,” Iris said. She sounded unconvinced.

“In that case, I will leave it on the side so you may choose whether or not to put it on the torte.”

Iris seemed to like this idea, and happily handed Ignis the sugar when he asked for it. He allowed her to stir the bowl as he slowly added the sweetener, instructing her on the best way to mix the confection so that all the ingredients meshed properly. Once they had finished the creme, Iris put the bowl in the refrigerator while Ignis prepared to make the caramel. Iris was very excited about this part, she announced - she had never seen sugar melt before.

“Why does the sugar turn brown?” she asked curiously, bending over the stove as far as Ignis would allow.

“It has to do with the breakdown of the sugar’s molecular structure,” he replied. It was a technical answer, but he wanted to tell her the truth.

“Why does it break down?”

“The heat, mostly.”

“But if it’s hot, why isn’t it burning?”

He quickly explained to her the idea behind melting points, and how they had the sugar cooking at precisely the right temperature to create caramel. “We’ll have to keep an eye on it though,” he said. “Or else it will overcook and start to turn bitter.”

“And that’d be gross,” Iris guessed.

“Very.”

The oven timer went off then, and Ignis passed off the mixing spoon to Iris so that he could retrieve the cake. He checked it with a toothpick to ensure that it was finished, and then set it on a baking rack to cool.

“Mmmm, that smells good!” Iris exclaimed, inhaling deeply.

“It will be even better once we add the caramel,” Ignis informed her.

“When do we do that?”

“Very soon.”

Indeed, the sugar had almost completely caramelized by now. Ignis took back the spoon from Iris and let it cook for perhaps a minute more before he took it off the heat and poured it atop the cake.

“Iris, grab that bag of salt.”

“This one?”

“Yes. Now, take a pinch in your hand and sprinkle it over the caramel.”

Iris obeyed. “Why are we adding salt to the cake?” she asked, flicking little crystals of salt over the cooling surface of the caramel.

“Chocolate and caramel are both very sweet flavors,” Ignis replied. “Adding a little hint of salt takes the edge off of the sweetness, and enhances the flavor profile.”

“Gotcha.” She looked up at Ignis questioningly. “Is that enough salt?”

Ignis surveyed her handiwork and nodded. “Yes, that should be plenty.”

She handed him back the bag of salt. “Now what happens?”

“Well, now we wait until it’s set up, and then we shall put it in the refrigerator to keep it cool.”

“So the cake will be cold?”

“We’ll take it out again before the party starts. We just want the refrigerator to help firm up the caramel.”

“Mmmm.” Iris put her head on her hands, watching the cake intently. “I wish I could eat it now.”

Ignis had suspected that she might feel this way, and so he revealed the small ramekin of extra batter that he had cooked along with the torte. Iris’ brown eyes lit up with glee as she accepted the tiny cake and scrambled around to find a fork.

She sighed after the first bite. “This is _amazing,_ Iggy,” she said happily, her eyes slipping closed in contentment. “I’m so happy you made my birthday cake!”

It was impossible not to smile at that. “I’m happy to do so, Iris.”

The little girl looked over at him in between bites of cake. “You know,” she said, “I asked Gladdy if he would ask you about the cake _weeks_ ago. Like, months. I was beginning to think he wasn’t gonna do it!”

“Is that so?” Ignis asked. He moved over to the messy countertop, putting dirty mixing bowls and spoons into the sink and putting ingredients back into the bags he had brought.

“Oh yeah,” Iris replied. “At first, he got all nervous about it, and told me no.” She shot Ignis a sidelong glance that was entirely too knowing for a twelve year-old. When he didn’t reply to that, she poked his arm. “You know why he was nervous?”

“Not at all,” Ignis said gamely.

“He _likes_ you, Iggy,” Iris said, leaning forward playfully. “Like - he _like_ likes you. Do you know that?”

“He did say something to that effect.”

“Yeah, but I mean...do you _know_ that?” she repeated. She’d finished eating the tiny cake and placed the dish in the sink, immediately scooting over to help Ignis rinse them off. “He’s liked you for a long time, Iggy. A really, _really_ long time. It took him forever to finally talk to you.”

Ignis blinked. What was a long time to a twelve year-old?

“Do you like him back?”

Iris was suddenly staring up at him intently, and Ignis almost took a step back in surprise. “I do,” he said earnestly.

“How much?”

“Very much,” he admitted.

She stared at him for a moment, and Ignis had the distinct impression that he was being weighed and measured. He hoped that she wouldn’t find him wanting. Belatedly, he realized that he desired, no, _needed,_ Iris’ approval of his relationship with Gladio. She and Noctis were the two people that Gladio held most dear - if she did not like him, that would reflect quite poorly on him.

But it turned out that he had nothing to fear, for Iris smiled at him a second later. “I’m happy he’s with you, Iggy,” she said. “You make Gladdy smile.”

That very instant, the front door opened, and Gladio’s booming voice called out, “Iris? I’m home!”

“Gladdy!” Iris jumped up off the stool, running to greet her brother. “Iggy’s here!”

“Is he?” Their voices were slightly muted now, distant. Ignis finished up with the dishes, reaching for a rag to dry his hands.

“Yeah! We’ve been baking!”

“Learn anything good?”

“Lots! Iggy taught me how to mix the batter, and how much sugar to add, and…” She was very thorough, giving Gladio a full recounting of the time she had spent with Ignis in the kitchen. Ignis smiled fondly as he listened to her animated speech, unable to help himself. Iris was a lovely girl, and her joy was truly contagious.

“Nice,” Gladio replied when she had finally finished her summation. “Now, _you_ can bake the cakes and I won't have to buy 'em at the store!”

“Only if you buy me the right ingredients!”

“Deal. But hey, you’ve got chocolate on your face and flour on your hands. Why don’t you go take a bath and get ready for the party?”  

“What about the decorations?”

“Don’t you worry about those. I got this.”

“Okay!”

A moment later, Gladio entered the kitchen, a broad smile on his face. He made straight for Ignis, reaching out to pull him into a searing kiss that left him breathless.  

“What was that for?” Ignis panted, leaning against the counter where Gladio had him pinned.

“Being nice to Iris,” Gladio replied. He kissed Ignis again, sweeter this time, lingering.

“That hardly requires any effort at all,” Ignis informed him. “Your sister is charming.”

“Something we have in common,” Gladio said, winking.

Ignis could not argue with that.

Gladio pulled away then, though he kept his fingers entwined with Ignis’. “I need to change clothes,” he said. “I had to go get some stuff for the party, but I told her I needed to go workout.”  He motioned to the dark shorts and tank top he was wearing. “Had to spray myself with water to make it look like I’d been sweating.”

Ignis didn’t have the heart to tell him that Iris was onto him.

“Wanna come up to my room? I left a bag there.”

Ignis nodded, and let himself be led up the stairs and onto the second floor. Gladio’s old room was just down the hall, very clean and sparsely decorated. “Dad uses this as a guest room mostly, now that I’ve moved out,” Gladio continued. “Used to be mine though.”

“Does it feel strange, coming back here?” Ignis sat down on the bedspread, watching as Gladio pulled a fresh pair of clothes out of a duffel bag.

“Nah, not really,” Gladio replied. “I stay over a few nights a week, hang out with Iris when Dad’s busy.” He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the broad expanse of muscle beneath. Though Ignis was wont to let his eyes wander, he fixed his gaze to the tattoo now spreading across the other’s back. It was no longer red and puffy, though the black lines on one side were demonstrably darker.

“I see the tattoo is healing nicely,” Ignis commented.

“Yeah, should start peeling soon,” Gladio replied, looking down at the lines on his arm. “Gotta keep it moisturized. Speaking of…” He reached down into the duffel bag, bringing out a small bottle of lotion.

Ignis stood without speaking, grabbing the bottle from Gladio’s hands. The other looked at him curiously, but allowed him to take the lotion without complaint. Ignis poured some into his hand and quickly set about rubbing it into Gladio’s skin. He could feel where the ink was, rough against the expanse of muscle and flesh, and he did his best to be gentle, unsure if the area was still sensitive.

When he was finished, he leaned forward and placed a light kiss at the corner of Gladio’s mouth.

Gladio smirked. “You wanted to touch me,” he said, keeping ahold of Ignis’ shirt as he moved to pull away.

Ignis raised an eyebrow. “So what if I did?” he challenged.

Gladio kissed him again, and this time, it was nothing but heat. He pulled Ignis firm against him, one hand at his hip and the other at his neck, fingertips threading into the hair at the base of Ignis’ neck. “I like it when you want to touch me,” he breathed.

The whisper sent a shiver of arousal through Ignis and he forced himself to pull away. He cleared his throat, motioning for Gladio to put his clean shirt on. “Much as I would like to stay up here, I believe we have a party to throw,” he said dryly.

Gladio sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.” He yanked the new shirt on over his head and artfully arranged the sleeves around his elbows. It was a deep navy blue henley, the top two buttons undone; it exposed just enough chest to be teasing, and Ignis found himself wanting to bury his face in that tiny patch of skin, breathing deep of the strong masculine scent that was Gladio. Instead, he turned away, allowing the other some semblance of privacy as he changed into a pair of dark gray pants.

They returned downstairs, and Iris was nowhere to be seen. Gladio led Ignis to a closet off the main entryway and pulled out several large shopping bags. “I bought balloons and streamers from the party store,” he said, “but I’m really no good at putting this shit up. Got any suggestions?”

Ignis rifled around in the bag, looking over what Gladio had bought. A lot of the decorations were garishly pink and frilly, exactly as Iris’ sleeping bag had been. “I take it Iris likes pink,” he remarked, pulling out a lacy plastic tablecloth covered in roses and peonies. It matched the real flowers Gladio had “hidden” out on the balcony patio.

“‘Like’ is an understatement,” Gladio said, snorting. “Apparently pink is a way of life.” He shook his head, clearly not able to understand his sister's infatuation with the color.

“Well, here, let’s bring these into the living room,” Ignis suggested, grabbing one of the bags. “I need to see the layout of the space.”

After a moment’s careful consideration, Ignis decided how he wanted to do things. He had Gladio hang streamers above all the windows and cascade them through the chandelier that hung from the ceiling while he blew up balloons and tied them to any sort of protruding handle he could find. Next, they adorned the tables with the frilly tablecloths, placing large crystal vases in the center of each and filling them with fragrant flowers. They had to rearrange several tables in order to get them where Ignis wanted them - one for presents and another for food. Which, when asked, Gladio ensured Ignis was on its way - Iris had wanted pizza, and he had entrusted Noctis with making sure that it arrived on time.

“Are you sure that was wise?” Ignis asked, hesitant.

“If there’s one thing Noct can be counted on to do right, it’s getting pizza,” Gladio replied.

“I suppose so.”

“Trust me, Iggy - Noct’s got this.”

Iris arrived downstairs a moment later, looking adorable in a hot pink dress and matching lace-up sneakers. She informed Ignis that she had picked the outfit out especially for today. He told her that it was a very good look on her, and she flushed at the praise.

Her friends started to arrive then, little girls wearing similarly brightly colored outfits and bearing gifts in their arms. Ignis and Gladio took these presents and set them out on the table designated for gifts, arranging them in little pyramids as they arrived. Someone, perhaps Gladio, turned on some music, and the girls began singing and dancing, altogether ignoring Gladio and Ignis.

Well, not entirely.

Ignis was quick to notice several of the girls shooting Gladio inquisitive looks. Whenever they noticed him watching, however, they would blush and turn away, giggling behind their little hands.

He nudged Gladio in the side. “You have some admirers,” he said, amused.

Gladio turned and saw the group to which Ignis had been referring. He grinned and waved at them. “Hey, ladies!” he said. “Having a good time?”

As one, they squeaked and nodded before running to the opposite side of the room, huddling around Iris and collapsing into excited giggles.

Ignis snorted. “You might want to lay it on a little thicker,” he said. “I don’t think they noticed.”

“What, jealous?” Gladio asked, poking him in the side.

“Oh yes, terribly.”

There was another knock at the door, and Gladio went to answer it. “Hey, about time!” he called, and Ignis turned to see who it was. Noctis was standing in the doorway, perhaps ten boxes of pizza in his hands; Prompto stood just behind him, laden down with several large bottles of soda.

Ignis rushed forward to help. “Ten pizzas, Noct?” he asked, surprised. “That seems like overkill, don’t you think?”

“Are you kidding?” the prince shot back. “Gladio will eat two by himself.”

“That was one time,” Gladio snapped. He turned to Prompto, taking some of the soda bottles before he dropped them, and then looked back at Ignis. “Trust me, Iggy - they don’t look like they can eat a lot, but those kids can pack it away. They’re like piranhas.”

Ignis snorted at the comparison as they moved over to the kitchen, setting the pizzas out according to their toppings. Noctis was nothing if not thorough, he noticed - there was something there to satisfy all tastes. The prince kept two pies in reserve, placing the boxes on the stove and out of reach of the girls.

“For the four of us,” he explained when Noctis raised an eyebrow.

As soon as they had arranged the pizzas and set out the disposable plates and cutlery - pink _again,_ Ignis saw - Gladio motioned them back from the table and cleared his throat. “Food’s here!” he yelled, basso voice rising above the music. “Get it while it’s hot!”

In a manner Ignis found both appalling and intriguing, the girls descended on the pizza like a pack of rabid dogs. There was no line and there was no order - it was a complete free-for-all, small hands tearing apart the pizzas like carrion birds at a carcass. Only when the carnage was complete, the partygoers all returned to the living room to eat, did Gladio allow their small group to approach the kitchen.

“See what I mean?” he said to Ignis, pointing to the ravaged pizza boxes. “Piranhas, all of them.”

Soon it was time for cake, and Ignis took it upon himself to transport the torte from the counter to Iris, placing it in front of her, candles lit. All of them sang to her, Gladio’s voice louder than all the rest, and then she blew out the candles, pausing for just a moment in order to make a wish. Then there were cheers, and Ignis took the cake back, heading into the kitchen to slice it up.

Prompto stood over his shoulder, handing him plates as he needed. “That looks awesome, Ignis!” he said cheerfully. “Did you make that?”

“Yes, with a little bit of help from Iris, of course,” Ignis replied.

“Say, you wanna make me a birthday cake next?” the blonde suggested, grinning. “It’s in October!”

“If you wish.”

“Sweet!”

He left, arms laden with plates of cake, and Gladio sidled up to take his place.

“I really appreciate you doing this, Iggy,” he said, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear it.

“It was my pleasure, Gladio.”

“No, really - I owe you.” He sighed. “I should’ve mentioned it earlier, and I know it was a hassle for you to get all of the ingredients.”

This was true, but Ignis felt no need to confirm it. “You can find a way to make it up to me,” he offered, lips curling up into a light smirk. “You mentioned the other night that you had certain... suggestions.”

Gladio’s eyes smoldered.

The rest of the night passed by in comfortable companionship. Around nine-thirty, parents arrived to pick up their children, and Ignis found his way back into the kitchen, tidying up even though Gladio had told him it wasn’t necessary. He couldn’t help it, habit taking over almost without thought. He disposed of plates and cups, broke down cardboard pizza boxes, and took a rag to the counters, ensuring the kitchen was pristine, while Gladio, Noctis, and Prompto entertained the last few partygoers.

It was there that Clarus Amcitia found him.

“Sir!” Ignis nearly dropped the rag he was holding when he noticed the King’s sworn shield. He immediately straightened into a more dignified posture, very much aware of the sweat on his brow and the grime on his hands. “I apologize for the mess.”

Clarus waved him off. “Be at ease, Ignis,” he said calmly, a trace of amusement in his voice. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing that you are the one _cleaning_ the mess.” He held his hand out for the rag.

Hesitantly, Ignis gave it to him, and he watched in surprise as the man quickly finished cleaning off the counters.

“I must thank you for helping with my daughter’s birthday,” he said, throwing the rag in the sink. “Gladiolus told me all about it.”

“Of course, sir. I was happy to be of assistance.”

“You made the cake, I hear?”

“Yes, with Iris’ help.” Ignis motioned towards the now mostly consumed torte, left in a silvery pan near the stove.

Clarus stepped forward and picked up a plastic fork. He took a bite of the cake and tasted it, expression carefully neutral. And then he swallowed and turned to Ignis, saying, “By the _Six,_ that is good,” and Ignis relaxed.

Gladio entered the kitchen then, nodding at his father.

“Gladiolus, have you eaten this cake?” Clarus asked, taking another - larger - bite of the remaining torte.

“Yeah, I had a piece.”

“It is spectacular.”

Gladio grinned at Ignis, who could not resist the small pleased smile that crept across his face.

“Well, I must thank you both for the party,” Clarus continued, throwing his fork into the trash. “I hate that I wasn’t able to attend.” There was regret in his eyes, and Ignis and Gladio both understood it. “But now, if you will excuse me, I must see my daughter. I have waited long enough to wish her a happy birthday.” He pulled a small package from his pocket and held it up. “And I still need to give her my present!”

He exited the kitchen just as Noctis and Prompto entered, giving a deep bow to the prince before heading out into the living room.

Noctis looked down at his watch, and then back up at the others. “It’s only ten,” he said. “Want to go back to my place? Continue this there?”

Prompto nodded. “I’m down!”

The prince turned to Gladio and Ignis expectantly. “Specs? Gladio?”

“Why not?” Gladio said, shrugging. “Though prepare to lose - I’m crushing your ass at King’s Knight this time.”

Noctis snorted. “As if,” he retorted. He looked around the kitchen and picked up the extra pizza, neatly piled into two leftover boxes at the edge of the counter. His eyes then fell on the mostly unused bottle of bourbon next the stove, and he picked that up too.

“Noct, you’re underage,” Ignis said sternly.

The prince blinked at him. “So?” he asked.

“So you shouldn’t be drinking, least of all _bourbon._ ”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Noctis-”

“And you’ll be chaperoning. So I won’t do anything stupid.”

“He’s just afraid your virginal self will outdrink him,” Gladio said offhandedly.

“I most certainly am not,” Ignis snapped. "And since when are you condoning this?"

Gladio shrugged. "I'm feeling benevolent."

“That true, Specs? You can’t handle your liquor?”

“I assure you, I am perfectly capable of handling my alcohol.”

“Don’t believe you.”

Ignis reached out and grabbed the bottle, leading the way out of the door. “This is ridiculous,” he snapped.

“The only thing that’s ridiculous is how chicken you are,” Gladio retorted, egging him on with a knowing grin. “Bet you won’t even make it past three shots!”

Ignis glared at him. “Is that a challenge?”

“You and me, drink for drink.”

Ignis hesitated for a moment, his mind screaming at him that was both incredibly inappropriate and incredibly stupid. He should not have felt so incensed, nor should he have felt such a need to prove that he could, indeed, handle his alcohol. And yet he did. He wanted to wipe that silly grin off Gladio’s face. He wanted to _win._

“Fine,” he snapped. “You’re on.”

They made to leave the apartment, the bottle of bourbon safely ensconced in Ignis’ arms, when Clarus appeared at the end of the hallway.

“Ignis!” he called out sharply

Ignis froze, fearing that they had been sniffed out. Guiltily, he walked back to where the older man stood, arms crossed over his chest. “Yes, sir?” he asked.

Clarus did not look at him. “Gladiolus talks a big game,” he murmured out of the side of his mouth. It would have been impossible to tell what he was saying from a distance. “But that’s all it is. Wait until he’s had a few glasses, and then distract him with food. He’ll fall asleep within minutes, and then I think it will be clear who can't handle his liquor.”

Ignis blinked at this unexpected source of help. “Sir?”

Clarus patted him on the back. “I didn’t tell you this.”

“I heard nothing,” Ignis said gamely. He went to return to the others, now standing outside in the hallway. Gladio raised an eyebrow at him when he offered no explanation.

“What did my dad want?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Ignis replied.

Gladio narrowed his eyes. “Bullshit.”

“Is it?” Ignis shot back, keeping his face carefully blank.

“Come on, you two,” Noctis called over his shoulder, already several steps ahead of them. “Let’s get going.”

“You heard the prince,” Ignis said lightly. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

  
Gladio grumbled all the way to the elevators.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I think *I* will go have some bourbon :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter pretty much devolved into porn. No complaints? Okay, moving right along :)

Bourbon was a bad idea.

Ignis blinked blearily at Noctis and Prompto, sprawled out on the prince’s living room floor, completely dead to the world. The two sixteen year-old’s had lasted all of two strong drinks before collapsing into fits of giggles and becoming utterly useless at taking care of themselves. Ignis had rushed around after them all night, trying to ensure that they didn’t fall and injure themselves. Gladio had found this utterly hilarious, sitting in a chair and watching Ignis follow his charges like a mother hen and her chicks.

“You could help me,” Ignis had pointed out, rather acidically.

“Nah, this is too much fun,” Gladio had replied.

Of course, he had passed out perhaps two drinks later, after Ignis had offered him some of the leftover pizza from Iris’ birthday party. True to his father’s word, Gladio had eaten the food gleefully and then promptly fallen asleep in his chair, uneaten pizza crust still in his hands. It had been up to Ignis to remove it and throw it away.

That had been perhaps two hours ago.

Now, at close to one o’clock in the morning, Ignis had finally found the time to relax. He sighed gratefully as he sat down in a chair, nursing one last cup of bourbon in his hands. He had drunk only sparingly during the prince’s drunken escapades; he’d thought it wiser that at least _one_ person remain relatively sober. Now that everyone else was asleep, he finally had the time to enjoy the drink. It burned a little going down, the spicy, oaky taste of it like fire in his mouth. But it was a good sort of burn, bringing a pleasant tingle to his fingers and making his thoughts a little hazy around the edges.

He let his eyes slip shut as his head fell back against the chair’s headrest. What a day. He was thoroughly exhausted, having gotten up early to gather the ingredients for Iris’ cake, and had then spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen. Then, of course, had come the party itself, followed by the after-party in the prince’s apartment. He craved nothing in that moment so much as he craved sleep. Should he stay here, make sure that everyone was alright in the morning? Or should he return to his own quarters, just a few doors down the hall?

His mind was made up for him when the sound of a low groan met his ears.

Gladio had awoken, his back audibly popping as he stretched out in the chair. He blinked owlishly at the two younger boys, sleeping on the floor, and then looked over at Ignis. A lazy smile spread across his features and he stood, bringing his half-drunken glass of alcohol with him as he walked across the room.

“What time is it?” he murmured, sliding into the armchair beside Ignis and pulling him half into his lap. Ignis allowed this, for there wasn’t really room in the chair for both of them to sit comfortably side-by-side. He also relished the contact, settling back against the warmth of Gladio’s chest quite willingly.

“A little after one,” he replied.

“Mmm.” Gladio took a swig of his bourbon, shaking his head. “Gods, this stuff is strong. No wonder the kids passed out.”

Ignis chuckled, eyeing the grimace on the other’s face. “And yet you’re still drinking it.”

“Can’t let perfectly good alcohol go to waste,” Gladio said. He nodded towards the glass in Ignis’ hand. “You aren’t exactly abstaining, yourself.”

“I think I deserve a drink,” Ignis pointed out, taking a sip as if to prove this point, “Considering it was me who made sure that everyone survived the night.”

“You worry too much.”

Ignis didn’t reply to that; he was much too distracted by the way Gladio’s hand was rubbing circles on his back, by the fact that he was sitting nearly directly on top of the other man’s hips. His thoughts took a decidedly libidinous nature then. How easy it would be to turn his head and kiss the other, to slide his hands down his front... maybe, if he dared, he'd even slip a hand between the other's legs. Heat rose to his cheeks at this thought, and Gladio didn’t miss it.

“You’re blushing,” he said, grinning. “Got something on your mind?”

“Nothing in particular,” Ignis replied quickly. It was too fast of a response, and Gladio caught him on it.

“Uh-huh,” Gladio said. He gulped down the rest of his bourbon and then set the empty glass on the table. He snaked a hand up, placing it around the back of Ignis’ neck and pulling him down so that their faces were no more than a few inches apart. “I think you’re fibbing.” He leaned forward, sucking Ignis’ bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it between his teeth.

Ignis inhaled sharply, a spike of want lancing through him unexpectedly hard. He decided to play along, boldly raising a finger and trailing it up Gladio’s chest until it rested on the vee of bare skin just below his throat. “And if I am?” he murmured.

“Guess I’ll just have to make you talk,” Gladio replied. He moved suddenly, sliding out of the chair and rising to his feet. He extended a hand down to Ignis, eyes sparkling with mischief. “C’mon.”

Ignis took the hand without a second thought, setting his empty glass down on the table as they walked past it. A strange sort of excitement passed through him at the thought of what was to come next. It felt slightly illicit - Noctis and Prompto were just in the other room, after all, and could wake up at a moment’s notice. And what exactly _was_ going to happen? He had always stopped them before things got too serious, but he was feeling bold tonight, emboldened by happiness and the slight bit of alcohol he'd imbibed.

Gladio led them further down the hallway and into the guest bedroom Prompto normally used when he spent the night. As soon as they had entered the room, he turned and quickly closed the door, pushing Ignis up against it and leaning down to give him an eager, heated kiss. It was a little sloppy, more tongue than teeth, but Ignis returned it vigorously, his body enthusiastically responding. He had been wanting to do this all day, and from the happy sounds pouring from the other’s throat, Gladio had too.

Large, firm hands roamed over his chest and arms, unable to keep still for very long in their journey to find new sensitive spots. Each touch was like fire, leaving a little trail of heat in its wake, and he was soon panting, hot, his shirt trapping the heat inside. Clumsily, he reached between them and began undoing the buttons, letting the two halves hang open in the front. Gladio eagerly slipped his hands inside, running his fingertips over bare skin.

The shirt fell from Ignis’ shoulders and pooled on the floor, but he couldn’t be bothered with that right now. He was too intent upon getting the other’s shirt off, grasping at the hem and yanking it up. Gladio broke the kiss just long enough to whip it off before he swooped back in, capturing Ignis’ lips once again before moving on to mouth at his neck and jawline.

“Is this what you meant, when you said you’d make me talk?” Ignis gasped, arching up when Gladio tongued a particularly sensitive spot. The gasp quickly turned into a moan when Gladio bit down, hard, and sucked. It was sure to leave a bruise tomorrow, and he knew he would have to work to cover it up, but in the moment, he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

“You were making eyes at me,” Gladio murmured, flicking his tongue against the newly created bruise. “Wanted to see what you wanted.”

“And?”

Gladio chuckled, shifting his leg so that it pressed between Ignis’ thighs.

Ignis shuddered in want.

“Think I found it,” Gladio murmured, pressing a little harder. This time, Ignis rocked forward into him, and he clamped a hand to his mouth to stifle the noise he made. It was good, _so_ good, much better than when he was touched himself, and Gladio didn’t even have a hand on him.

It suddenly occurred to him that he _wanted_ Gladio’s hand on him, wanted it desperately. The friction of the other’s thigh against him was good, but hardly enough to satisfy him.

“Gladio,” he breathed, trying to get the other’s attention. “Will you…?” He bit down on the request, heat rising to his already heated cheeks. This was where he had stopped, all of the other times. He had been too overwhelmed by the sensations Gladio made him feel, the magnitude of them.

Amber eyes peered up at him in the darkness. “Yeah?”

Ignis clamped down on his uncertainty, willing it away and replacing it with the trust he had for this man. No more hiding behind carefully constructed barriers; Gladio was real. For whatever reason, he liked Ignis, and he wasn’t going anywhere. He plunged forward, forcing himself to articulate what he wanted. “Touch me,” he said, trying to instill as much confidence into his voice as he could, “Please.”

Gladio instantly caught his meaning, leaning in to steal a hard, almost bruising kiss even as his fingers worked at Ignis’ belt, drawing it through the loops and letting it fall to the floor to join the other articles of clothing. But then he paused just before he started to undo the button on Ignis’ pants, leaning back to stare at Ignis. “You sure?” he asked.

Even now, in their heady state of arousal, he was giving Ignis the chance to take back what he’d said, to say no. Never would Ignis have thought that this towering giant of a man could be so gentle, so thoughtful of his every need. But he was, and Ignis no doubts.

“I’m sure,” he said, nodding.

Gladio nodded and quickly undid his pants, leaving Ignis clad in nothing but his underwear. A small sliver of his old uncertainty wormed its way into his thoughts then, unbidden - would Gladio find his physique wanting? He’d never been this bare in front of the other before, never this exposed. Was he good enough? But Gladio groaned, and murmured, “Gods, you’re amazing,” before leaning in to kiss him again, a hand at Ignis’ hip, and Ignis’ worries were assuaged.

They didn’t break the kiss even when Gladio pushed his underwear down, snaking a hand down to grasp Ignis’ length, stroking him once, twice, three times in quick succession. Ignis moaned, pushing forward, deeper into the kiss and Gladio’s hand.

He quickly became lost in the pleasure, Gladio’s hand bringing him closer and closer to oblivion. He pulled back, head falling against the door, unable to do anything more than writhe in the other’s grip. Gladio noticed this, his free hand curling around Ignis’ neck. “You are-” he muttered, voice low with desire, “-so fucking hot, Ignis.”

Ignis couldn’t respond.

“You close?”

He barely managed a nod, fingers digging into the skin of Gladio’s bicep.

The other leaned in close and kissed the side of his jaw, lips teasing against his skin. “Then come,” he murmured.

Ignis jerked sharply, those two little words, uttered in such a dark, compelling voice, bringing him to his limit. He came hard, a moan slipping from his throat despite his best efforts to stifle it. Gladio worked him through it, wringing every last bit of pleasure from him before loosening his grip. He stepped back, and Ignis sank back against the door, grateful for its support; he did not think his trembling thighs could support his weight right now.

A minute or two later, he looked up, his eyes catching Gladio’s in the darkness. “What about you?” he breathed, noticing the outline of Gladio’s own arousal in his pants.

“I can take care of it,” Gladio replied, “Unless you’d rather…”

Ignis nodded, taking a cautious step forward. He _did_ want to, he realized. He _did_ want to return the favor, to touch Gladio the same way that Gladio had touched him. It seemed so easy, now, to admit this, his hesitance of the past few weeks gone. All that remained was trust and some other, deeper feeling beginning to blossom within him that he dared not name just yet.

Slowly, he brought a hand up to cup Gladio through his pants. The other let out a soft moan, eyes slipping closed as Ignis grasped him a little harder. Encouraged, Ignis brought his hand up, working at the button and zipper before pushing the pants down, underwear quickly following and exposing Gladio’s erection. His cock was big, Ignis noticed, and the tip was leaking a bit. He swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in his throat, pushing away the sudden thought of what that cock would feel like _inside_ him.

Now wasn’t the time for that.

The other noticed his pause, and caught his hand. “You okay?”

Ignis reached forward, trailing his fingers along the other’s length. “I’m more than okay,” he said quietly, delighting in the response the slight touch evoked. He curled his fingers around the shaft, stroking upward experimentally, and was rewarded with a sharp exhale. Emboldened, he began to speed up his movements, mimicking actions he had only ever performed on himself.

“Fuck, Iggy,” Gladio breathed, thrusting his hips up to meet every downstroke. “You’re good at this.” He peeked an eye open, grinning. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

Ignis’ eyes flashed, and he gripped a little harder. “I have not,” he replied, smirking at the way Gladio’s breath caught in his throat at the increased pressure, “but I’ve been told I’m a quick learner.”

The other’s breathing sped up after that, and Ignis focused all of his attention on getting him off. A long, low stream of curses erupted from Gladio’s mouth, and Ignis intensified his efforts, bringing his other hand forward to loosely cup the other’s balls. Then Gladio was coming, Ignis’ whispered name on his lips the only warning, and Ignis worked him through it, the same way Gladio had worked him through his own orgasm.

Afterwards, they clung to each other, for support so much as the desire to remain connected. Gladio’s arm was loosely slung around Ignis’ waist, his face buried in his neck. Every so often, he would place a light, easy kiss to Ignis’ cooling skin, and Ignis would shiver with delight. For his part, Ignis was loosely threading his fingers through the other’s hair, a warm, comforting feeling coursing through him. He felt closer to the other than ever, bonded, basking in the glow of the other’s affection.

He thought he could get used to this.

“We should clean up,” Gladio said suddenly, raising his head to peer down at Ignis in the dark.

“There should be tissues in the bathroom,” Ignis replied, motioning towards the door across the room.

Gladio retreated, returning a moment later with a wad in his hand. He cleaned Ignis up first, and then himself, tossing the dirty napkins into a bin by the door. Ignis was touched by the gesture, waiting patiently until the other was finished before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“What was that for?” Gladio asked.

Ignis bent down to pull his pants up. “Do I need a reason to kiss you?” he retorted, raising his eyebrows.

“Good point,” Gladio muttered, handing Ignis his shirt. He caught Ignis’ hand as he reached out to take the article of clothing, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Once they were fully clothed, they crept back into the living room. Prompto and Noctis were still fast asleep, their soft snores the only noise breaking the silence. Gladio turned to Ignis. “You staying here?” he asked.

“I should,” Ignis replied. “I expect they will want breakfast in the morning.”

Gladio snorted at this. “Probably. Here, you take the couch, then. I’ll stick with the chair.”

Ignis frowned. As Gladio was the larger of the two of them, he would have thought that it made more sense for _him_ to take the couch. Ignis was much more likely to fit in the chair. “Are you certain?” he asked. “You would fit the sofa better.”

“Take it, Iggy,” Gladio said firmly.

Ignis allowed himself a light sigh. “Alright. But your back will hurt in the morning, mark my words.”

“I think I’ll manage.”

Gladio caught his wrist just as he was about to lie down. Before he could say anything, the other pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, sweet and gentle.  Ignis blinked at him in surprise, and Gladio grinned, raising an eyebrow.

“What, do I need a reason to kiss you?”

Ignis pursed his lips. “Very funny,” he said flatly. But he let himself be drawn in again for one last embrace before he withdrew. “Good night, Gladio.”

“Night, Iggy.”

* * * * *

Sure enough, Noctis and Prompto _did_ want breakfast.

Or at least, they did until they were confronted with the smell of food.

Ignis flopped a hot, greasy omelette onto a plate, handing it to the prince where he sat at the counter. Noctis groaned at the smell, hiding his face in his hands. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he moaned.

“Eat,” Ignis said firmly. “You’ll feel better.”

“Go slow though,” Gladio added, clapping a hand to Noctis’ shoulder as he walked past him into the kitchen. He winked at Ignis as he passed, and something in Ignis’ stomach fluttered pleasantly in response. “Small bites.”

Noctis peered up at them through his dark bangs. “How’re you two not hungover?” he demanded.

“Some of us know our limits,” Ignis said primly.

“And what about him?” he retorted, pointing to Gladio.

“I have at least eighty pounds on you,” Gladio replied, taking the second omelette Ignis made and pushing it in front of Prompto, who chirped out a feeble thanks in response. “Means I can drink a hell of a lot more before I feel it.”

The prince gave up on arguing then and picked up his fork, slicing off a small bit of omelette and bringing it to his lips. He chewed it very slowly, turning it over in his mouth and then swallowed, looking rather pale. “Okay, I’m definitely gonna be sick,” he said. But he made no move to get up. Ignis raised an eyebrow, and then Noctis shook his head. “Wait, no. I’m good.” He took another bite, more confidently this time, and Ignis turned back to the stove.

Gladio slung an arm casually over his shoulders. “I gonna get one of those?” he asked.

“Do you _want_ one of those?” Ignis asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Then wash your hands.”

“What? Why?”

Ignis leaned forward, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “Because I know where they’re been.”

Gladio grinned at him, squeezing his shoulder a bit before stepping away to do as he was bid. “Okay, fine,” he said, louder, primarily for the other two’s benefit. When he returned, hands still slightly damp, Ignis handed him a plate and was rewarded with another saucy wink.

Noctis and Prompto looked much better after they had eaten, their color picking up a bit. They also began to speak more, discussing the last night’s shenanigans - or at least, what they remembered of the last night. Both of them quickly decided that bourbon was a little too dangerous for their tastes, and vowed to try out different drinks the next time. Ignis sternly informed them that “next time” wouldn’t be until the both of them were of age.

The prince had just laughed at him.

“Hey, Specs, you got something on your neck.”

Ignis froze, clapping a hand to the side of his neck. He cursed internally - he hadn’t remembered to cover up the hickey that Gladio had left on his neck! He frantically tried to think up an excuse, any logical explanation for why he would have a bruise on his neck.

He came up with nothing.

“Is that… is that a _lovebite_?” Noctis snickered, bringing a hand up to his mouth.

“It totally is!” Prompto added gleefully, leaning forward to get a closer look. Ignis glared at him, but the blonde wasn’t deterred.

“Who gave it to you?”

“That is none of your business,” Ignis snapped, reaching out to grab their empty plates. Deciding that the ruse was up, he let his hand drop from his neck as he turned and placed the dishes in the sink.

“It had to have happened recently, or I would've noticed it. Was it - oh my god, was it _Gladio_?”

Gladio choked on his coffee, sputtering rather inelegantly.

“Ah, he’s blushing!” Prompto cried gleefully, pointing. “It’s gotta be him!”

“I am _not_ blushing!” Gladio snapped, turning to glare at the other. This, of course, was a bold-faced lie, as his cheeks had noticeably darkened since the accusation had been made.

Prompto took no notice of his ire. “You aren’t denying it!”

“ _Specs…_ ” Noctis wheedled, grinning. “Tell me the truth.”

Ignis looked to Gladio, helpless. The larger man lifted his shoulders ever so slightly, a barely perceptible shrug. Ignis turned back to the prince, who was waiting with bated breath

“It…” he began.

“Yes?”

Ignis sighed in defeat. “Yes. Yes, it was.”

“Hah!” Noctis crowed. “I knew it!” He looked back and forth between the two of them. “I knew there was something going on between the two of you!”

“So how long has this been going on?” Prompto asked. He looked nearly as gleeful as the prince, Ignis noted, bemused despite his current discomfort.

“Officially?” Gladio asked. “Few weeks.”

 _Officially?_ Ignis thought. _What does he mean by that?_

“And you didn’t tell us?” Noct asked, indignant.

“Were we supposed to announce it?” Ignis asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yeah, did you want a card or something?” Gladio demanded.

The prince rolled his eyes. “ _No,_ of course not,” he retorted. “But geez, as my friends, you could’ve mentioned it. Not like I would’ve made fun of you or anything.”

“The only reason we’ve kept quiet about it is that we weren’t certain how a relationship between the two of us would be received,” Ignis replied quietly.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone,” Noct said.

“Yeah, me neither,” Prompto added.

“It’s not our secret to tell.”

“Then… you don’t care?” Gladio asked.

“‘Course not,” Noctis replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He snorted then, turning to face Gladio exclusively. “‘Bout time you did something.”

“What?” Ignis and Prompto asked in tandem. But neither the prince nor Gladio said anything else, too intent upon each other to hear the question.

“Yeah?” Gladio finally replied. “I could say the same of you.”

“ _What?”_ Again, Ignis and Prompto asked their question at the same time. And again, they were ignored.

To Ignis’ great surprise, now it was Noctis blushing. “Yeah, well,” he said dismissively, “I got time.”

“Uh-huh.”

The four of them sat in awkward silence for a few moments, and then Noctis hopped off his chair. “C’mon, Prompt,” he said, dragging the other boy away, “let’s go finish that level. Should be easy now that we’re not drunk.”

“I suspect that will help!” Prompto agreed, grinning.

Gladio waited until the two were safely enthralled in their video game before he stood and walked over to Ignis, an apologetic look on his face. “Well, guess the cat’s outta the bag now,” he muttered, thumbing the mark on Ignis’ neck. Ignis hissed at the slight pain, but he didn’t pull away.

“I suppose so,” he allowed.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s quite alright.” Ignis gave him a weak smile. “I didn’t exactly discourage you.”

“It was bound to happen eventually, right? Someone finding out about us?”

“Mmm. Probably.”

“And if _anyone_ had to find out, at least it’s Noct and Prompto.”

“Yes, we should consider ourselves lucky for that.” Ignis trusted that the prince would keep his word. He had no reason to betray the trust of his two oldest friends, nor was he the type of person to do such a thing. Prompto would keep quiet as well, though he, admittedly, did not know many people to whom he could admit such a secret and cause a scene. His parents? A few friends outside Noctis? What would they care if the prince’s sworn shield and chamberlain were dating?

“Hey.” Gladio caught his hand, and Ignis blinked, drawn from his musings. “I had fun last night.”

Ignis raised his brows. “Did you, now?” He smiled at the flat look Gladio sent him. “I did as well.”

“Yeah? You don’t regret anything?”

“Not at all.”

Gladio smiled at this, leaning forward to sneak a kiss. “Good. ‘Cause I think I know some other things we can do. To repay you for Iris’ birthday.”

“Dude, we can still hear you!” Prompto said suddenly.

“Good!” Gladio shot back. “Take notes!” To Ignis he added, “Just name the time and place.”

Ignis chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that, Amicitia.”

“Yeah, you will.”

“ _Dude!”_

“Shove off!”


	10. Chapter 10

The next few weeks were among the happiest in Ignis’ life.

Nothing particularly exciting happened. Rather, the days were decidedly ordinary, consumed with taking care of the prince, his own training, and completing his duties as set by the Crown. The hours were long, and he went to bed each night thoroughly exhausted, waking early the next morning and plying himself with copious amounts of coffee. When he could, he would spend time with Gladio - talking, kissing, napping… the minutes they spent together would turn into hours, and perhaps would have turned into days had Ignis the time to spare. As it was, they were lucky to have as much free time as they did.

They took things slow, neither of them feeling the need to progress their relationship further. Instead, they were intent to keep things where they were, taking the time to learn what each other liked and disliked. Ignis learned that Gladio was surprisingly ticklish on his sides, and that if his neck was caressed just right, he would melt into a pliable puddle in Ignis’ arms. He learned that Gladio could kiss for hours at a time, his self-restraint like iron, and that his tongue was sinfully skilled when put to certain, _other_  uses.

Ignis was sure that Gladio was learning things about him as well, for he was uncovering quite a bit about himself. For instance, he discovered that he quite enjoyed the feeling of Gladio’s weight atop him when they would lie in bed together, and the way Gladio’s hand would come up and frame the side of his face. He realized that his chest was surprisingly sensitive, faint touches to his sides pleasing, the faint brush of a hand across a nipple capable of rendering him breathless.

Gladio’s hand on him was far better than his own. He wasn’t sure if this was because of some physical difference between them, or something more psychological. But every time the other touched him, he felt like he was floating, blissful. He wouldn’t have thought such a euphoria was possible; he had certainly never managed to reach such a state in his own private time.

His happiness must have been palpable, for it seemed as if everyone and their brother commented on it. Noctis, Prompto, Cor, Iris… even the King mentioned it to him one day, inquiring as to whether or not something had happened to prompt this inexplicable joy. He hadn’t known how to respond, but he'd been as truthful as he dared - that he was happy, immensely so, but not because of some great event or the other. Rather, he was happy just existing for the moment.

Before they knew it, it was summer, and the prince’s birthday was fast approaching. Noctis was turning seventeen, and it seemed as though everyone in the Citadel was determined to make it a happy one.

One morning, after Ignis had dropped the prince off with the Kingslaive for an extra training session, he found himself cornered by Cor Leonis in a coffee shop. He looked up in surprise when the Marshal dropped down into the seat opposite him, a stern look on his face.

Or, at least, Ignis thought he looked stern. It was hard to tell with Cor, though.

“Ignis.”

“Sir.”

“Busy?”

Ignis looked down at the documents spread across his table, at the variety of reports and meeting notes he had yet to work his way through. “Not particularly,” he replied.

The Marshal lifted an eyebrow, pointedly staring at the piles of papers between them.

“These can wait,” Ignis clarified, reaching out to straighten one of the stacks that had gotten out of line.

“Good. The King wants to see you.”

“The King?” Ignis repeated, surprised. “His Majesty wants to speak with me?”

“Yeah. Something about the prince’s birthday.”

“Ah.”

“Can you come now? He’s got a free hour.”

“Of course,” Ignis replied, standing to gather up his things. The Marshal reached out to help him, and Ignis murmured his thanks.

“You read all of these for His Highness?” he asked. “On a regular basis?”

“On a daily basis, if I have the time,” Ignis replied.

Cor whistled appreciatively, handing him a stack. “Better you than me,” he said.

“His Highness needs the extra time to study for his exams, now that he is in his final two years of school. If I can summarize reports and expedite the process of reading them, so much the better for Noctis.”

“Even while he's on summer vacation?" Cor asked, a rare grin gracing his features.

Ignis shrugged, a tad sheepishly. "I would let him have some free time while he can."

"Your dedication is admirable. Never let it be said that you’re shirking your duties.”

The King was waiting for him in his private study, penning a letter in neat, slanting handwriting. He set it aside when Ignis and Cor arrived, giving the two his full attention.

“Ah, Ignis,” he said, smiling. “Thank you for coming. I hope I’m not inconveniencing you.”

“Of course not, sire,” Ignis replied.

“Please, have a seat.” Regis gestured to the chair opposite him, and Ignis took it, setting his bag onto the floor beside him. The Marshal took a spot near the door, wordlessly standing guard. Ignis wondered absently where Clarus Amicitia was, as it was normally his duty to protect Regis. But perhaps he was off doing some other errand for the King.

“I trust you are aware that my son’s birthday is fast approaching.”

Ignis nodded.

“I wanted to speak with you on the matter of a gift for him.”

“A gift, sire?”

“I believe it time that my son learn to drive.”

Ignis thought he understood things now.

“I would like for you to teach him, Ignis, once he obtains his learner’s permit. Will you do this?”

“I would be happy to teach the prince to drive, sire.”

“Good!” Regis smiled at him. “I had hoped that you would say yes.” Neither of them spoke of the fact that the King could have easily ordered Ignis to do such a task. It would have been gauche. “And now that that’s settled, I think the next step is procuring Noctis a car. Ah, Clarus. Good timing.”

Ignis looked over his shoulder to see Clarus entering the study, Gladio and Prompto quick on his heels. He raised an eyebrow at Gladio, silently questioning whether or not the other knew what was going on, but Gladio shook his head. Prompto, too, looked rather disoriented, nervous too, if his fidgeting was any indication.

“I would like the three of you to select a car for Noctis,” Regis continued. “I will give you the money, of course, and the Crown’s agents will handle the details with insurance, licensing, and registration. The rest I am leaving up to you.”

“I’m… flattered, your Majesty,” Ignis began, “But I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea of what to look for in a car.” 

Regis nodded, as if he had expected this answer. “That is where having young Prompto with you will come in handy, I think.”

“Me?” Prompto squeaked.

“You are good with machines, yes? You know what sort of mechanical specifications to look for in an adequate vehicle?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess-”

“Then it’s settled. You will ensure that any vehicle the three of you select is mechanically sound,” Regis continued. “That leaves you, Ignis, and you, Gladiolus, to look for the proper safety features and aesthetics.”

Ignis nodded slowly. It would seem that the King had thoroughly planned this out in advance. He had to admit, it would be a good present. Noctis had been begging the King to let him learn to drive for almost a year now, since he had first turned sixteen. Regis had been hesitant, not wanting to needlessly risk his only son and heir’s life, but he seemed to have changed his mind. Perhaps he had just wanted Noctis to wait a year, mature a little bit more, before putting him behind the wheel of a car. Regardless, the prince was likely to be very excited with the gift.

“Now, I would prefer that you not select something too ostentatious,” Regis continued. “Something used is perfectly fine. It would be preferable, even. Yes, get him something that has been pre-owned, something people will not expect the crown prince to be driving. And nothing red, I think.

“I have arranged for several dealers to meet with you today. Don’t worry about entertaining my son - I have arranged for him to be in good hands for the rest of the day. He will be none the wiser as to your actual location and intentions.”

“Very good, sire.”

“And because this is official Crown business, I would like for you to take my car,” Regis added offhandedly. "It will lend you a certain credibility." 

“The Regalia?” Ignis asked, surprised. He had never driven the King’s personal car before, of course. Whenever he had ferried Noctis around the capital, he had driven a standard-issue Crown vehicle. They were perfectly capable cars, of a relatively recent make, but nothing in comparison to Regis’ personal ride. He had seen it several times, a dark, sleek sedan made for elegance and speed. That the King trusted him to drive it…

He couldn’t decide whether the jittery feeling in his stomach was nervousness or excitement. Perhaps a little of both.

The King dismissed the three of them then, and they set off to the Citadel’s private parking garage to pick up the Regalia. It was parked a little ways away from all of the other cars, cordoned off with heavy black velvet ropes.

“Dude! We’re driving that?!” Prompto asked, gaping.

“ _I_ am driving that,” Ignis corrected him, perhaps a little harsher than was necessary. But he had seen Prompto’s driving skills. They certainly… left something to be desired. He could only hope Noctis wouldn’t be quite so easily distracted when behind the wheel.

“No need to be so territorial,” Gladio said, teasing him. “I don’t even have a license.”

That surprised Ignis. “No?” he asked.

“Nah. Never really saw the need.”

“But you never wanted to?” Prompto asked. “Like, just to try it?”

Gladio shrugged. “I’d do it if I ever needed to,” he replied. “But until then, I’m happy taking the bus.”

They had to speak with the garage attendant in order to get into the Regalia. It was a rather extensive procedure, Ignis found - he had to sign several documents and waivers before he was given the keys, and there was a lengthy paper on the insurance and liability that he really would have preferred to have had more time to study. But his companions seemed eager to begin, and so he reluctantly got into the driver’s seat and backed out of the garage.

The first dealership they visited was a bit of a disappointment, the owner attempting to sell them his newest, fanciest cars even when they explained that they were looking for something a little plainer. He didn’t seem to understand the need for anonymity.

The second lot was a little better. There were certainly more options to choose from, and the owner was more than willing to work with them. Ignis found several cars that he thought would be good options, and Prompto signed off on their working parts, but none of them wanted to make a hasty decision. They wanted this to be perfect for their friend, the absolute best car they could find.

And so they set out to the third and fourth dealerships, respectively, continuing the search for much of the afternoon. Still, nothing was jumping out at them. Gladio was beginning to get frustrated, Ignis could tell, arms crossed over his chest as they surveyed car after car after car. Ignis had to step between him and Prompto several times, lest a snapped retort turn into a more heated exchange. Gladio apologized each time, and Ignis knew he wasn’t meaning to be contrary. He understood the other's ire; he too was getting tired of looking.

Finally, at their fifth and final stop, they found it.

The car was several years old, a dark blue sedan with slightly worn leather seats and decent gas mileage. It was reasonably priced too, the dealer either not realizing that they were with the Crown and could afford a higher price, or eager to get rid of the vehicle and make more space on the lot. Either way, the three of them quickly made a deal and signed the papers, instructing the dealer to send the details to the Crown’s agents before setting off to return to the Citadel, dropping Prompto off at his house on the way.

In the morning, the dealer had the car driven to the Citadel, and Ignis met with the King to show it off. Much to Ignis' relief, Regis approved of their selection, and ordered his personal mechanic to get it perfect for the big reveal, replacing the tires, washing it until it shown, and making sure the inside was tidy and neat. It was then hidden, tucked away into a corner of the garage Ignis hadn’t known existed to keep it hidden from the prince.

Now that that was finished, Ignis was left with the task of finding a  personal gift for the prince. He brought this topic up with Gladio one night, as they were relaxing in Gladio’s apartment.

“Hmm… what are you leaning towards?”

“Honestly?” Ignis shook his head. “I haven’t the faintest idea. The car is such a wonderful gift. I fear nothing I can give him will be able to compete with that.”

“Well, yeah,” Gladio said, snorting. “Of course it won’t compete. That doesn’t mean he won’t appreciate the gift.”

“True.” Ignis sighed, shifting a little on the bed so that he could look at Gladio more comfortably. “And what are you getting him?”

“A new fighting game he said he wanted,” was Gladio’s easy reply. “And another controller for his console, so all three of us can play at once.”

That was a good idea, Ignis thought. Now why couldn’t he think of something like that? He didn’t normally have such difficulty in deciding on presents. He was observant, and he listened - it was a good combination for being able to properly select gifts for others. But this year, he was completely stumped.

“I’ll have to think on it some more,” he said finally. He still had time - there were five days until the prince’s birthday. That was more than enough time for him to come up with something.

He hoped.

Gladio shifted, rolling over onto his stomach, and Ignis found himself thoroughly distracted from the idea of presents. Gladio had visited Julius again about a week ago, finishing up the last bit of shading on his chest and then adding more feathers to his back. It covered almost the entire expanse of skin, the bird’s tail feathers ending just above his hips. It was mesmerizing to look at, Ignis thought, and he often found his hands trailing over the black lines absently. Gladio didn’t seem to mind this; he hummed pleasantly at the touch, occasionally even drifting off to sleep.

Ignis had discovered many ways to wake him up.

“Hey. I wanted to ask you something.”

He turned towards Gladio expectantly. “Yes? Is this about the prince's birthday?”

“Nah, it's something else. More of a favor, really.”

“What is it, Gladio?”

The other didn’t answer for a moment, his eyes fixed on the bedspread beneath his arms. Ignis was more than a little surprised; Gladio wasn’t reticent to speak, and he was typically very good about vocalizing precisely what he wanted. Ignis knew he would speak eventually, though, and settled in to wait.

Sure enough, Gladio spoke a few minutes later.

“I want to tell my father. About us.”

Ignis was completely taken aback. “You want to…”

“Yeah. I do.” He looked up at Ignis, amber eyes serious. “I don’t like keeping it from him.”

“And what do you think that he’ll say?”

Gladio sighed. “It’s hard to say,” he admitted.

Apart from Noctis and Prompto, no one save Iris knew of their relationship. After the other two had inadvertently discovered their secret, they had decided to redouble their efforts at secrecy. They waited until the hallways were deserted before knocking on each other’s doors, and kept a good foot of space between their bodies when in public. Ignis still wasn’t sure that that was enough, as he’d caught several seemingly knowing gazes from the palace staff, but no one had said anything to him as of yet.

But now Gladio wanted to tell his father. Clarus Amicitia. A stern, towering man.

Ignis thought that Clarus liked him. That had certainly been the impression that he had gotten at Iris’ birthday party, and in all of the days thereafter. But Clarus liked him as his son’s _friend_ , not necessarily as his son’s - well, he supposed boyfriend was the appropriate term. Not that he and Gladio had ever discussed it.

And why hadn’t they ever talked about it?

This bothered him a little, and he frowned, turning to Gladio. “And how would you introduce me to your father?” he asked.

“I dunno,” Gladio replied. He seemed to sense that this was an important conversation, turning more fully towards Ignis. “My boyfriend? Lover?”

“Is that what I am?”

“If you want to be.” Gladio studied him for a moment. “I’m serious about this, Iggy. About us. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ignis knew this. He could see it in the way Gladio looked at him, at the way his eyes softened and how his lips curved up at the edges. He could feel it every touch and caress, exchanges both heated and tame.

“I do want that,” he admitted quietly. “If _you’ll_ have _me_ , of course.”

Gladio snorted, leaning in to kiss him. “Like I’d want anyone else,” he teased.

“You might change your mind.”

Gladio shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

"You're very sure of yourself."

"I know what I want, Iggy. You." 

Again, he had that look in his eyes - that intense, warm stare that made Ignis uncomfortable if it was turned upon him for too long. It did things to him, that look - his cheeks would flush, and his chest was constrict in an almost painful, breathtaking sort of way. He wasn’t brave enough to put a label to the feeling just yet; it was almost overwhelming, hard for him to contemplate without feeling entirely out of his element. It was easier to look away - until he was ready. 

"Then you have me."

Gladio kissed him again, warm and soft and sweet. Ignis allowed himself to get lost in it, his body molding against Gladio's until theirs bodies were completely entwined. 

It could have been a minute or an hour later when they finally pulled apart, and Ignis almost couldn't bear the full feeling in his heart. 

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, unable to bear _that look_ any more. “Your father.”

Gladio knew exactly what he was doing, shying away from any admittance of feelings. But he made no mention of it, letting Ignis take the easy out, understanding everything Ignis felt without words. He was good at that, Ignis had realized - reading him like an open book. Sometimes, Ignis thought he knew him better than he did himself.

“I want to tell him the truth,” Gladio repeated. “I want to tell him how much you mean to me.”

“And you have no idea what his reaction will be?”

“I have an idea,” Gladio admitted. “Two, actually.” His hand had come up to Ignis’ side at some point, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against his hip. Ignis couldn't tell whether it was for his own comfort or Gladio's. “He might be angry, or at least disapprove of us. In that case, he’ll say something about our responsibilities to Noct, how we’re being selfish, how I have to continue the family line…”

“Or…?”

“Or he might be happy that I’m happy,” Gladio replied. “He _does_ like you, at least. That works in our favor.”

“Do you judge either as being more likely?”

“I really can’t say,” Gladio admitted. He groaned, drawing Ignis closer to him and burying his face in his neck. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“If it’s as important to you as it seems, it’s not a bad idea.”

“Unless he freaks the hell out,” Gladio pointed out. “Then it’s a bad idea.”

Ignis sighed. “I suppose that is a risk you will have to take.” He pulled back a little, twisting his arm so that he could tilt Gladio’s head up, forcing their eyes to meet. “Might I ask something?” Gladio nodded. “Why _is_ it so important to you that we tell your father?”

Ignis was not close to his parents the way that Gladio was close to his father. Even his uncle, whom he had lived with until he had been old enough to get his own apartment, was not particularly close to him. They were friendly, discussing business and the goings-on in the Citadel, and they still met once a week for lunch. But the man was hardly a parental figure. He had never idolized the man the way that Gladio so obviously idolized Clarus.

“I guess I just don’t like keeping it from him, hiding it,” Gladio replied slowly. “It would be nice to not have to hide it _everywhere_ we go.”

Somehow, Ignis got the sense that that wasn’t the entirety of the truth, and so he fixed Gladio with a searching look. “You want him to approve.”

Gladio blinked. “Maybe.”

Ignis thought he could understand that. He had sought the approval of others his entire life, though not necessarily from a parent. Since had been designated as the prince’s future chamberlain, he had tried to do everything perfectly, following rules and the laws of deportment to a tee to ensure that his every move was met with approval, with ringing satisfaction in his actions. He had needed to know that he was performing adequately, that he had a measure of control over the situation. Approval was the positive feedback he required.

He could see how Gladio, whose father represented everything that he was, everything he had been born to be, would seek the man’s approval, then. How he would desperately want it, even if he stubbornly refused to let it dictate his actions.

“Have you a plan if he disapproves?” he asked then, because he had to know.

“It won’t change anything,” Gladio said, suddenly fierce. “Not how I feel about you, not how I want to be with you - nothing.”

“And if word… gets out about us? If your father tells the King, or anyone else?”

“Then we deal with it.” He palmed Ignis’ face, eyes soft despite his adamant words. “I’m not ashamed.”

He had run out of logical questions to ask, and they both knew it. It was time for Ignis to come to a decision. Did he agree, or did he retreat, shy away from the first real obstacle they were to face as a couple?

 _A couple,_ he mused. He liked the sound of that. He had always thought that he and Gladio were exclusive, but it was different now that they had actively discussed their relationship. It was _real,_ cemented together, permanent. His sensibilities fought against that, arguing that nothing was permanent, and yet something within him told him it was true just the same.

That comforted him, and he made his decision.

“When would you like to do this?”

“Soon, I guess,” Gladio replied. He thought about it a little harder. “Tomorrow?”

_So soon._

But there was no backing out now. 

“Tomorrow will be fine.”

“It’ll probably be late,” Gladio warned him. “Dad never gets home before nine.”

“I understand.”

Gladio shot him a tentative smile, hand stilling at his side. “Thanks for this, Iggy,” he said. “I… it means a lot to me.”

Ignis returned the smile, reaching up to a tuck an errant strand of the other’s hair away. “That is why I’m agreeing,” he admitted. “Because it’s so important to you.”

“Still. I appreciate it.”

“Do you now?” Ignis drawled. He delicately arched an eyebrow, and he saw Gladio’s expression shift to something decidedly more amorous at the minute movement. “Would you care to show your boyfriend how _much_ you appreciate him?”

It sounded a little strange to vocalize this new title aloud, a little juvenile perhaps. But Ignis delighted in it all the same, and if Gladio's pleased grin was any indication, so did he.

He practically purred as he leaned forward to claim Ignis’ lips.

“Gladly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in love with these boys. Anyone else there with me? They are almost too much to take.
> 
> Thanks for reading! As always, feedback is much appreciated :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for how long this chapter is. It completely got away from me. But I didn't want to end it in the middle, because... reasons. 
> 
> Also, I totally forgot Jared existed the last time I wrote about the Amicitia's. Oops? haha 
> 
> Thanks again for all your kind words and kudos! I appreciate them all :) Y'all are the best!

Gladio swung by to pick up Ignis around eight-thirty, and together, they walked to the Amicitia apartments.

Ignis could tell the other was nervous. For one thing, he was completely quiet throughout the duration of their walk. Normally, he would at least attempt small talk, even if Ignis refused to engage in it. For another, he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, kept smoothing his hair back out of his face. It was almost down to his shoulders now, and each swipe of his hand mussed it even more, until it was little more than a dark tangle atop his head. Ignis almost pulled him aside and fussed over it, but there wasn’t a place where he could do so without making a scene.

Gladio paused just outside the door, turning to Ignis. “You ready?” he asked.

“If you are,” Ignis replied.

He too felt a little uneasy, though he doubted it was much of anything next to the turmoil that must be racking his lover. This was not _his_ father that they were trying to impress, after all. Gaining Clarus’ approval was important to him because it was important to Gladio, not in and of itself.

Still, he was apprehensive. Clarus was a very large, imposing man, and he had good connections within the Citadel’s military and political ranks. Perhaps more than anyone else, Clarus Amicitia could threaten the anonymity of their relationship if he decided that he was against it.

Ignis hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Gladio nodded once and turned back to the door, opening it with one of the keys in his pocket. The entryway was dimly lit, only a few recessed lights on at this time of night. They deposited their shoes by the front door and quietly walked into the living room.

“Gladdy!” Iris jumped up from the couch, rushing over to give her brother a hug. “And Iggy!”

To Ignis’ surprise, as soon as she was finished hugging Gladio, she sprang over to him, throwing her tiny arms around his waist. “Hello, Iris,” he said, wrapping her in a one-armed hug that he hoped wasn’t too terribly awkward.

If it was, she seemed to neither notice nor care, for she beamed up at the two of them. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, actually,” Gladio replied, again weaving his fingers through his hair. “Is Dad here?”

“Not yet,” Iris said, sighing. “He called and told Jared he would be late again.”

Gladio huffed out a frustrated breath. “Jared give you any idea of _when_ he would be home?”

“Perhaps another hour or two, I’m afraid,” a voice ventured from the doorway. Gladio and Ignis looked up to see Jared Hester, the Amicitia’s butler, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a damp dishrag in his hands. “Is there anything I can help you with, Gladio? Or is this something that requires your father’s attention?”

“Thanks, Jared, but I need to talk to Dad,” Gladio said. “We’ll just wait.”

“You’re staying?” Iris asked excitedly. She grabbed one of Gladio’s hands, tugging him over to the large leather sofa that wrapped around the living room. “Watch a movie with me!”

Gladio let himself be dragged over to the couch, Iris bounding over to a box of movie cases and chattering on about which one they should watch. Jared shot Ignis a highly amused look at this and returned to the kitchen.

“What do you think, Iggy?” Iris piped up. Ignis looked over at her; she was holding up three different movies, torn. “ _Super Starlight Princess, The Adventures of Cletus and the Hawk,_ or _Ultimate Metal?”_

Ignis had to suppress a laugh. “That’s quite a selection you have there,” he replied.

“I dunno what I’m in the mood for,” Iris sighed. She turned to Gladio. “Gladdy?”

“Please not _Super Starlight Princess,_ ” he said. “You’ve watched that a thousand times.”

Iris laughed. “Don’t let him fool you, Iggy, that’s his favorite,” she said.

“It definitely is not.”

“Is too! You cried when Starlight Princess’ horse died!”

“Well, that one’s definitely out now, considering you just told Ignis how it ends.”

“Aw, crap.” Iris pouted a bit, but put down the violently pink movie case and moved on to the other two. “Well, you can still pick from these two!”

“ _Ultimate Metal,_ then,” Gladio said.

Iris considered this suggestion for a minute, and then shook his head. “I wanna watch the other one,” she announced.

“Then why did you ask me?” Gladio demanded.

“Well, it would’ve been rude not to!”

Ignis couldn’t help the smirk that crept across his face at how easily Iris disarmed her older brother. She had had years of practice, of course, but she cut him to the quick so very easily - it was quite comical, really.

He came over and sat down beside Gladio, who was looking even more perturbed, on the couch. “There’s no need to pout,” he said lightly. “We can watch the other movie later on, if you still want to see it.”

“Oh, come on, man, not you too.”

Ignis chuckled and let the matter drop, allowing himself to settle down into the sofa cushions a little more. He kept a few inches of space between his body and Gladio’s, trying to maintain some semblance of propriety, but the other was having none of it. He slung an arm over Ignis’ shoulder and pulled him in close, ignoring the blatant smirk Iris sent in their direction.

“Is this wise?” Ignis murmured, taking advantage of the movie’s opening credits so that his voice wouldn’t be overhead. “Cuddling on your father’s couch?”

“Probably not,” Gladio replied. “But it’s not like he’s here.”

Jared walked past them then, no doubt heading over to another portion of the apartments to complete the rest of his nightly chores. He raised an eyebrow at the two of them, but said nothing.

“And Jared?” Ignis asked.

“Yeah, he’ll mention it to Dad,” Gladio said. “Probably. But does it matter? I mean, we’re gonna tell him the truth anyways.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

Gladio’s arm tightened around him. “I am.”

 _The Adventures of Cletus and the Hawk_ was a rather dull movie, it turned out, the plot trite and full of cliches. But Iris seemed to enjoy it, and Ignis found her reactions entertaining, if nothing else. Gladio did not speak once the movie began. Ignis had turned towards him several times, trying to engage him in some sort of small talk, but the other’s lips were drawn into a tight line, his jaw tense, and Ignis knew he was only barely concealing his anxiety. And so he had turned back to the television screen, pressing his leg a little more firmly against Gladio’s in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

After the movie was over, Jared returned and informed Iris that it was past time that she go to bed. Iris pouted at this, but gave in when the butler was insistent; she turned to Ignis and Gladio and bid them both good night before heading back upstairs to her room.

Jared turned to Gladio then. “Master Clarus is on his way home,” he announced. “I received a message from him several minutes ago.”

Gladio nodded. “Thanks, Jared,” he said.

“I took the liberty of telling him that you were here, and that you wished to speak with him. I take it this is to be a private conversation?”  

“Yeah.”

“Very good. I will, ah, make myself scarce then. Good night, Gladio.” He nodded to Gladio, and then turned to Ignis. “Mr. Scientia.”

Ignis cringed ever so slightly at the formality in the butler’s voice. Was that disapproval he heard, or was he reading too much into things? Perhaps it was just uncertainty on Jared’s part; he certainly wouldn’t know what to do if Noctis came home from school one day with someone and starting cuddling them on the couch.

Well, that wasn’t precisely true. He had a _few_ ideas about what he would do. But all of them involved taking a step back and analyzing the situation first. Jared was likely doing the exact same thing.

Gladio drew away from him, standing and turning off the television. Ignis found himself missing the other’s warmth, and he crossed his arms over his chest to ward off the sudden chill.  “Nervous?” he asked, watching as the other began to pace around the living room, eyes boring a hole into the carpet on the floor.

“I fucking hate this,” Gladio replied, his voice low and rough. Normally, such a timbre would’ve sent shivers down Ignis’ spine and made heat pool in his lower belly. But tonight, the tone was decidedly different, and not in a good way. He sat up a little straighter, moving his hands to his knees, listening intently. “The waiting. I just want to get it done.”

Ignis nodded. He understand the feeling well. It wasn’t impatience, not really; it was more than he did not like feeling unproductive. He hated waiting, hated the limbo of anticipation. It was one of the reasons that he kept himself so busy, why he scheduled things so closely together. It meant that he spent very little time waiting, and more time doing. Gladio was much the same - a man of action, a man who saw a need for something to be done and simply went out and did it.

“He will be here soon,” Ignis said, doing his best to sound soothing. He paused, studying Gladio’s hunched shoulders and tense posture. His heavy brows were drawn down over his eyes, giving him a brooding expression that Ignis found he didn’t like. It darkened him somehow, muted his natural warmth. “Have you decided what you are going to say?”

Gladio snorted, shaking his head. “Not in the slightest,” he admitted. “Nothing seems good enough.” He sat down in an armchair opposite Ignis, running a hand through his hair yet again. “I’ve come up with a hundred different things to say, but none of them seems right. You haven’t read some self-help book on _this_ , have you?"

It was meant as a joke, albeit a poor one. Ignis smiled anyways. “I have not,” he replied.

“Ah, figures.”

They sat in tense silence for a moment more, unsure of what to say to one another. It was a terrible, awkward quiet, and Ignis hated every second of it. He looked down at his watch, checking the time, and then looked up at Gladio, checking his face for signs of stress. It was a useless endeavor, as Gladio’s face had been one gigantic mess of worry since they had arrived at his family’s apartments, but he couldn’t stop himself from studying the other, couldn’t resist the urge to check up on him, make sure he was alright.    

The door opened then, and the both of them jumped to their feet. Ignis’ heart was beating quite rapidly in his chest, and though he maintained some outward semblance of calm and order, he was feeling none of it.

Clarus Amicitia walked down the hallway to meet them, his footsteps slow and sure on the hardwood floor. He stopped in the doorway, staring hard at his son. A moment later, his eyes flicked over to Ignis; that inscrutable gaze stayed on him for a long while, and Ignis realized that he was being appraised. For what, he wondered? The weight of Clarus’ stare was almost unbearable, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then Clarus shifted his focus back to his son and spoke, and Ignis bit down on whatever it was he had been planning to say.

“Gladiolus. Jared said you wanted to speak to me.”

“Yeah, I do,” Gladio replied, nodding.

Clarus paused, and then gestured to Ignis. “I take it this is about Ignis?”

“It is.”

“I see.” He sighed, finally relaxing his posture a bit. Ignis didn’t know whether this was a good sign, or a bad one. “And will we be doing this in private or with an audience?”

 _He means me,_ Ignis realized. _He_ was the audience Clarus had mentioned. Should he take offense at that, at being treated like he wasn’t even there? The man hadn’t spoken in a particularly insulting fashion, but there was something about the phrasing of it that suggested his warmth towards Ignis had cooled considerably. Did he already know? Was that possible? Something twisted in Ignis’ stomach, and he grimaced.

Gladio hadn’t missed the slight. “An audience?” he repeated hotly. “You mean Ignis?”

“I did. Would you rather we did this in front of him or not?”

Gladio wordlessly gestured to the kitchen, and Clarus stalked off, closing the door behind him as he went. It was only a few shades short of a slam. But Ignis had no time to worry about that, for Gladio had closed the distance between them in two long strides, gathering him into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “He has no right to talk to you like that - like you aren’t even fucking here.”

Ignis understand the enmity, though, which made this all the harder. If his suspicions were correct, Clarus already knew exactly what Gladio wanted to talk to him about. Perhaps Jared had told him his suspicions, or maybe Clarus was just perceptive. But he certainly couldn’t fault the man for his behavior, not when it was perfectly logical.

“Let me talk to him alone,” Gladio continued, pressing a kiss to Ignis’ cheek when he didn’t speak. “Maybe he’s just surprised.”

It was wishful thinking on Gladio’s part, surely, but Ignis nodded and watched his lover follow his father into the kitchen, closing the door with only a modicum more self-control than Clarus had exhibited. It didn’t bode well for their discussion.

Sure enough, the indistinct voices he heard through the heavy wood were raised, heated even, and Ignis sank down to the couch for support. He heard his name several times, only recognizing it because of his familiarity with the sound of it. Sometimes he could tell that it was Gladio speaking of him, for then his name was spoken with a warmth bordering almost on reverence. Other times, he could tell it was Clarus, for it was spat out as if it were a dirty, vile word.

Things were going very poorly, he thought, very poorly indeed. He had clasped his hands together in his lap when he had sat, and now he saw that his knuckles were white with strain. It was difficult, listening to the two of them argue without being able to defend himself. He wasn’t sure what he could do to help matters, of course - from the little snippets and phrases that he could hear, it seemed that Gladio was doing an excellent job of supporting him. His presence was thus not likely to improve matters, but it very well might make things worse.

The two Amicitia men were shouting now, their once muddled words now clear and distinct.

“It doesn’t matter!”

“I beg to differ, Gladiolus! You are the heir, the eldest, it _must_ be you!”

“Oh, fuck that! Iris is just as much of an Amicitia as I am, and you know it!”

“And you would throw that responsibility on her? Hmm?”

“Yeah, the way you threw my entire fucking life on me? You wanna talk about throwing responsibility around, Dad?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! This is our duty, our family’s _privilege_ -”

“I know what it means! I haven’t forgotten what my purpose is!”

“Then _act_ like it!”

“I am! I _do_! Dammit, Dad!” There was the sound of something hitting a hard surface, perhaps a counter top, and Ignis winced. He knew that those counters were solid granite, and he pitied the hand of whomever had slammed a fist onto its surface. “Can I not have one thing to myself? _One thing?!_ The way you had Mom?”

“You can have that!”

“Just not Ignis, right?”

“Why, Gladio, why?” Clarus demanded then. “What is he to you? Why is so he important? Why does it have to be him?”

“Because I love him!”

Ignis was aware of many things happening at once.

Clarus barged out of the kitchen, stalking past Ignis without so much as a second glance. Close on his heels was Gladio, immediately coming over to the couch and helping Ignis to his feet, gentle despite the dark expression on his face. At the top of the stairs stood Iris and Jared, Iris demanding to know who was yelling and what was wrong.

Ignis saw all of these things, and yet he could do nothing. There was a roaring in his ears, and he felt oddly faint, his throat constricted.

_Because I love him!_

He heard those four little words over and over again in his mind. Had he heard Gladio correctly? Had he misunderstood? No, he couldn’t have - it was only four words, one simple sentence. And yet the meaning behind it was almost unfathomable.

Ignis allowed himself to be led out of the Amicitia apartments. Later on, he could vaguely remember being walked back to his own rooms, Gladio muttering angrily under his breath the entire way. But in the moment, he comprehended very little, completely and totally dazed.

Somehow, he managed to pull out his keys and open the door. No sooner had he passed the threshold than Gladio had pressed him up against a wall, hard, kissing him until he was breathless. Gladio’s lips moved urgently against his, and only moments passed before he was tilting Ignis’ head to the side, craning his neck for better access so he could deepen the kiss, his tongue pressing into Ignis’ mouth.

When he finally pulled back, the both of them were panting, hard.

“Sorry,” Gladio muttered, “Didn’t mean to just grab you like that.”

“Did you mean it?” Ignis asked, ignoring him.

“Did I mean what?”

“When you said… when you… that you…”

Gladio stared at him for a minute; he was so close that Ignis could see each slight saccade of his eyes, each tiny shift of his irises as he studied Ignis.

“I didn’t mean it to come out like that,” he said finally. “It shouldn’t have happened that way.” He nuzzled in close, the tip of his nose butting up against Ignis’ and his breath ghosting over Ignis’ lips as he spoke. “Dammit, you deserved to hear it from me first. Not like that.”

Ignis could not speak for the lump that had developed in his throat. Instead he clung to Gladio a little harder, grabbed his shirt a little tighter, and pulled their mouths back together, kissing him deep.

He pushed backwards, moving away from the wall, steering them towards where he knew his couch was. Together, they fell onto it, Gladio absorbing most of the impact and Ignis sliding into his lap. Warm, rough hands snaked down his back, sliding beneath the hem of his shirt and pushing it up until they were against bare skin. Ignis shivered at the touch, pressing a little closer and relishing all of the places where their bodies touched.

“Gladio-”

“Mmmm?”

“Say it again?”

He pulled back, staring down at his lover, bottom lip between his teeth.

For the first time that evening, Gladio smiled at him, and his hands rose to frame Ignis’ face, thumbs swiping along his cheekbones. “I love you, Ignis,” he breathed. “Gods, I do.” He swept back in, pressing the lightest of kisses against Ignis’ mouth, his nose, his chin, his jaw, anywhere his lips could reach.

Ignis melted against him, trembling. He couldn’t speak, he found, his mouth unwilling to form the words in his heart. Gladio didn’t seem to mind, continuing to shower Ignis with affection. He was so gentle, so sweet despite the anger he had displayed not a half an hour before. Perhaps the timing of this was entirely off, and perhaps they should not have been doing this, but Ignis found that he didn’t, _couldn’t_ care less, and that all he wanted was to press himself even closer to this man, to hold him tight and never let him go.

All too soon, the alarm on Ignis’ phone that told him to go bed went off, cruelly interrupting this perfect moment. Ignis pulled away with a frustrated huff, turning the annoying thing off, but Gladio was already pulling away.

“I should go,” he said, “so you should get some sleep.” His voice was a little rough around the edges, his lips swollen from giving Ignis near constant kisses. He was beautiful, Ignis thought, beautiful in a rough, ragged sort of way that he couldn’t believe he had ever managed to oversee.

He shook his head. “Don’t go,” he said quickly. “Stay.”

Gladio paused. “Yeah?”

“Please,” Ignis said, scrambling backwards and pulling Gladio towards his bedroom. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Gladio looked at him then, and it seemed that he realized everything Ignis was trying to say without actually speaking. His eyes softened, and he nodded, taking the hand Ignis had extended to him. “Okay,” he said, and it was the simple acceptance Ignis craved.

Neither of them spoke as they stripped down, Ignis changing into a pair of pajamas and Gladio removing everything from his frame save his loose cotton pants. Ignis managed to fall into bed first, slipping his glasses off and setting them on the bedside table before reaching out to set an alarm for the morning. He felt the bed dip when Gladio settled in behind him, snaking an arm around his waist and tugging him backwards, snug against his much larger frame.

It was perfect, Ignis thought, sheer, utter perfection.

If he could do this every night for the rest of forever, he would die a happy man.

Of course, the likelihood of the two of them getting to fall asleep in one another’s arms every night seemed rather unlikely, what with Clarus’ reaction to the news of their relationship and their shared duties to the prince and what appeared like inevitable war on the horizon, but for now, this one moment was enough.

It was more than enough.

* * * * *

Ignis was cold when he awoke the next morning.

Frowning, he turned onto his back, looking to see if Gladio had moved in the night, but the bed lay empty. Had he awoken late? Though it didn’t seem likely, he grabbed his phone and checked the time. No, he still had several more minutes before his alarm would go off. Had Gladio… left?

Ignis couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy as he rose to his feet and padded out into his living room to investigate. He smelled freshly brewed coffee, and the lights were on - all good signs. And then his eyes settled upon Gladio, perched upon one of his chairs and intent upon his phone screen. He looked up when he noticed Ignis, and then he sat up a little straighter and set the device aside.

“Hey,” he said. He waved a hand towards the kitchen. “I made coffee.”

“I can smell it,” Ignis replied. He walked across the room, taking the chair opposite Gladio. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah. Couldn’t help it. I’m too used to waking up early to go running.”

“Ah.” Ignis supposed that made sense; the two of them had long days, and they had long since gotten accustomed to waking up several hours before the sun actually arose. He was surprised, however, that Gladio had awoken before him. He was normally a very light sleeper; if the other had left the bed, he had thought that he would have felt it.

Apparently not.

“So, I got a message from my dad this morning.”

Ignis shot him a wary look. “What sort of message?” he asked slowly.

“He wants to talk to you.”

“To me?” Ignis asked, surprised. “Whatever does he wish to say to me?”

“I dunno,” Gladio replied, shaking his head. “Probably wants to try and talk you out of our relationship, since you’re the more logical one. Maybe he figures you’ll listen.” He wasn’t looking at Ignis as he said this, and Ignis wondered if perhaps he thought that such a thing were possible.

He put a hand under Gladio’s chin, lifting it until the other was forced to meet his gaze. “I am afraid that in this particular instance, I am most irrational,” he said. “Your father will not dissuade me from anything, Gladio. I promise you that.”

Gladio gave him a weak smile, and then showed Ignis the text message detailing where and when Clarus Amicitia wanted to meet. He hadn’t much time, he realized with a bit of alarm, for it seemed Clarus wanted to get this done as quickly as possible, before the day even really started. He rushed through his shower and hastily got dressed, choosing some of his best clothing in order to project the best image possible to Gladio’s father. His hair was, unfortunately, refusing to cooperate with him, even when he used his most reliable styling products.

Giving it up as a lost cause, he grabbed his bag and phone. Gladio met him halfway, a thermos of coffee in one hand and a protein bar in the other. “Here, eat,” he said.

“I really haven’t the time, Gladio-”

“ _Eat,_ ” was the insistent reply. “It’s never a good idea to do this kind of thing on an empty stomach. Trust me.”

Ignis wasn’t sure that was particularly sage advice, given the nervous churning of his stomach, but he took the protein bar just the same, tucking it into his pocket in favor of the coffee, which he quite willingly drank on the way to the Amicitia apartments.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Gladio offered.

“I appreciate the thought, Gladio, but if your father said that he wanted to speak with me, I doubt that he wants you present,” Ignis remarked.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But I don’t want him yelling at you, or threatening you. That shit doesn’t fly with me.”

As flattered as Ignis was by this desire to protect him, it was entirely unnecessary. This wasn’t a duel, where he would be forced to physically confront an opponent; this was an exercise in rhetoric, and Ignis took great pride in his oratory skills. If anything, he thought he might have the upper hand if all Clarus wanted to do was talk to him.

“I will be fine,” he assured Gladio. “I promise that I will call you as soon as I get done speaking with your father.”

“Yeah?”

They had reached to the door now, and Ignis turned to face his lover. “I will,” he said, nodding. “Now, go, run. It will distract you from thinking about me.”

Gladio snorted. “Fat chance,” he muttered. But he did as Ignis said, throwing caution to the wind and giving him a light kiss on the cheek before heading off in the direction of the training rooms.

Now Ignis was alone. He took a deep breath, focusing upon the task at hand. He could do this; he didn’t know what Clarus wanted, or what he was going to say. But Ignis was prepared to stand up for himself, him and Gladio both. He would not back down, not when he was the happiest he had ever been in his life.

This - his relationship with Gladio - was worth fighting for, and if a fight was what Clarus wanted, it was a fight he would get.

He stepped forward, knocking briskly upon the door, and a few moments later, Jared answered. “Ah, good morning, Mr. Scientia,” he said, his voice completely devoid of any emotion, any hint of what was to come. “Right this way, please. Master Clarus is expecting you.”

He was led down a side hallway to a small study paneled in dark wood. The room was stuffed to the brim with furniture; a large, heavy desk dominated the space, and bookshelves filled to bursting lined the walls. Dim, yellow-colored lamps gave the room a rosy glow, and an electric fireplace warmth. It was the sort of room Ignis would have loved to have had as a workspace, were he given the option of selecting one for himself.

Clarus was sitting at the desk, reading something off the screen of a relatively modern computer. He looked up when Jared cleared his throat.

“Master Clarus, Mr. Scientia has arrived.”

“I see that, Jared,” Clarus said dryly. He beckoned Ignis into the room, and Jared shut the door behind him, giving them complete privacy. Ignis stood for a moment, uncertain, and then seated himself in one of the chairs opposite Clarus, deciding that Gladio’s father would appreciate action over inaction. He was not wrong, if the slight quirk of the other’s lips was any indication.

“Gladio told me that you wished to speak with me, sir,” he said, taking the initiative and beginning the conversation. He was sure to keep his back straight and his expression pleasant but controlled, offering no hint of weakness. If Clarus had expected a meek and subservient Ignis, then he was about to find that he was very, very wrong.

“I do,” Clarus replied. He leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk. For a moment, he said nothing, simply staring at Ignis and sizing him up. His eyes were lighter than Gladio’s, a bluish-gray color, and in that moment, they reminded Ignis of the cold steel of a sword. His voice, however, was pointedly neutral, neither warm nor cold. “First, I must offer you an apology for my behavior last night, both my treatment of you and my anger towards you. It was uncalled for, and I am sorry to have stormed out like that. I can offer no excuse other than fatigue and concern.”

Ignis blinked. That was… unexpected. Was this a tactic to put him off balance?

“Second, I must assure you that my hesitance about your relationship with my son has nothing to do with you,” Clarus continued. “I like you, Ignis. You’re a good man, and you serve the prince well. I have not been able to find a single bad mark in any of your performance reviews. In fact, no one has _anything_ negative to say about you.” He scowled. “It’s a bit annoying, really.”

“I apologize for my competence, sir.” 

That earned him a wry, half-amused snort. “Witty, too,” he muttered. “I like that.” He paused then, the humor fading from his face. “That’s the problem, I think. I like you. I really do. This would have been so much easier to deal with if I hated you.” He sighed, unclasping his hands to run a palm over his short, stubbly hair - perhaps that was where Gladio had picked up the habit, Ignis mused.  “My son says that he loves you. He has… never said that about anyone before. Did you know that?”

Never? Now it was Ignis’ turn to be surprised. He knew well that he wasn’t Gladio’s first lover, or even his second. People who looked like Gladio were never short on romantic partners; they tended to fall into relationships whether they planned to or not. Or at least, in Ignis’ experience, they did. But to know that he was the first person Gladio had ever claimed to _love…_ well, that admission made his heart beat a little faster in his chest.

"I did not," he admitted. 

Clarus nodded. "I'll admit to being aware that there was... _something_ going on between the two of you. It's not as if Gladio is good at hiding it." He shook his head, perhaps fondly, perhaps in exasperation. "But I had no idea that it was so serious. I had no idea he felt this strongly about you.

“It makes me hesitate,” Clarus continued, “for I want Gladiolus to be happy. Dammit, Ignis, I _do._ And if you make him happy, then I think I should let the two of you be, give you my blessing.”

There was a “but” at the end of that thought, hanging unspoken in the air. When Clarus didn’t speak again, Ignis prompted him to continue.

“But this is not a normal situation.”

“No,” Clarus said, shaking his head, “No, it isn’t.”

It struck Ignis then how very tired Clarus looked. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but there were dark circles around the man’s eyes, and his lips were drawn tight, throwing the scars and wrinkles on his face into stark relief. He looked like a man who hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, a man who wanted nothing more than to go and collapse into his bed.

As if confirming Ignis’ thoughts, Clarus then said, “I’ve been up all night, trying to think of a solution - how to make Gladiolus happy, and how to satisfy the family duty to always serve the kings of Lucis. My son thinks the answer lies in Iris, in allowing her to continue the Amicitia line, and maybe it does. But after a fair bit of research, I think I’ve found some other options that will allow Gladio to continue the line - adoption, surrogacy, artificial insemination with a willing partner…”

Ignis froze. Clarus wasn’t…. He didn’t mean...

_Oh, Six, he does._

All of Ignis' carefully crafted speaking tactics went out the proverbial window after that, his composure almost completely shattered. 

“And of course, all of this supposes that the two of you stay together for any lengthy period of time. That might not even be the case. Hell, we could all die tomorrow if the Empire decided to attack!”

“Sir, I don’t think Gladio and I are anywhere near-”

“You sure as hell better not be.” Ignis snapped his mouth shut. Clarus’ lips quivered again, as if he were suppressing a humorous thought, and he continued. “Look, Ignis, the point I’m trying to make is this: you two are young, but there are options available to you should you make this permanent. I didn’t realize that last night. Or maybe I didn’t want to see it, didn't want to deal with it. Maybe I’m just a stubborn old goat who can’t admit he’s wrong in the middle of an argument.”

Ignis tactfully chose to neither concur with nor refute this statement.

"Either way, it was wrong of me to act so hastily, and I regret it." Though his tone was still neutral, Ignis could see the change in Clarus' eyes, the shift from cold steel to true remorse. "Truly, I do. I hope you don't think less of me for my anger." 

“Of course not, sir,” Ignis said, choosing his next words carefully. “I know that I’m not the person you probably wished to see Gladio with-”

“Hell no, you aren’t. You’re better than anyone I would have chosen. Better than anyone else he could’ve picked, too.”

Ignis released the breath that had caught in his throat when Clarus had interjected.

“Quite frankly, I don’t think he could make a better match, if you’re willing to put up with him.”

“I am,” Ignis replied. Then, sensing that perhaps Clarus was willing to take a joke now, he added, “For the most part.”

Clarus barked out a laugh, and Ignis knew he had said the right thing. “Don’t let him give you shit, Ignis,” he said. “I mean it.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.” He crossed his arms over his chest then, and half-turned back to his computer. “Now, I suspect you’ll want to call Gladio and tell him what I’ve said. I’m sure he’s waiting just outside the door for you.”

“Actually, I told him to go run,” Ignis replied.

“Did you?” Clarus laughed again. He eyed Ignis appreciatively then. “Maybe you’ll be better for him than I thought.”

Ignis smiled at that. “I hope so, sir. I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really had y'all going there, didn't I, towards the middle of the chapter? :D hahaha, or maybe I'm totally transparent, I don't know XD This is my fluff story, though. I don't want angst of any kind, no matter how unrealistic it might be, hahaha
> 
> Personal head canon: Clarus is secretly super playful and kind of a dick, he really likes Ignis, and together, they're always ganging up against Gladio
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting almost to the end of things now, folks :)
> 
> I'm planning on having 15 chapters, and this is the one that begins the last little section of rising action and leads up to the climax. In order to do that, I'm diverging from canon a bit and doing my own thing. Still, nothing too big!

True to his word, Ignis called Gladio as soon as he was finished speaking to Clarus, telling him the news of his father’s not-quite-blessing. At first, he'd seemed skeptical, the news simply too good to be true. But Ignis could be very persuasive when he wished to be, and eventually, he had managed to convince his lover of the truth. He had come running to find Ignis, bursting into his apartment and kissing him senseless with joy.

After that, it seemed as if news of their relationship spread through the Citadel like wildfire. Ignis was never really sure how it happened - he certainly hadn’t gone around proclaiming the news to the masses, and neither had Gladio. But perhaps they were a little less secretive about their relationship than before, a little less intent upon hiding the truth from everyone. Maybe the gossiping palace staff had simply had enough with idle conjecture and were openly discussing the two of them now. Whichever was the case, the truth was out.

Ignis quickly found himself on the receiving end of many a knowing smirk from Gladio’s friends in the Crownsguard, many a teasing question about how he put up with the behemoth that was the prince’s sworn shield. Ignis fielded such inquiries with a pleasant smile, informing them that he had things well in hand - a happy accident of a pun which did not go unnoticed by Gladio’s friends. To be honest, he didn’t mind the attention. They meant well, Ignis thought, and they appeared to be genuinely pleased that Gladio had found someone who made him so happy.

And he did appear to be happy - Ignis had never seen the other looking so carefree, so full of life and joy. He was smiling, all of the time, and whenever he wasn’t in the training rooms or guarding Noctis, he was with Ignis, stuck to his side like a bur.

Ignis didn’t mind.

The prince’s birthday came and went, the revealing of the car a moment of special significance to Noctis. The boy’s eyes had widened when Cor had driven it into one of the smaller ballrooms - actually _driven_ , Ignis had been surprised to see (and privately horrified at the potential grease stains it would leave on the polished marble floors) - and he hadn’t had the words to thank his father. The King had simply ruffled his hair, much to Noct’s chagrin, and handed him a set of keys, explaining that Ignis would be giving him driving lessons after school now.

They were to start tomorrow, Ignis remembered as he placed his dirty clothes into the hamper and changed into his pajamas. Was he ready for the task? He had spent the past week or so devising a schedule for the prince’s lessons, dividing the time equally between learning the rules of the road, background information about the car, and actual time spent driving. He feared that Noct - who had been chomping at the bit for the past two weeks, anxious to get behind the wheel of his new car - wouldn’t want much to do with the first two items on that list, but Ignis was adamant that he learn everything there was to know about driving, not just how to handle the vehicle.

To his surprise, even Gladio seemed to think he was being a little overzealous.

“Does he really need to know how much torque the engine has, Iggy?” he asked as Ignis came out of the bathroom, flipping through the pages of notes Ignis had left out on his desk.

Ignis frowned. “Of course he does,” he replied. “He will need to know the specifications of his car if he ever needs to take it to a mechanic for repairs.”

“But if he needs repairs, the car will just go to the Crown’s mechanics,” Gladio pointed out.

“And if he happens to be out of the Crown City?”

“What would he be doing outside of Insomnia?”

Ignis rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Gladio, but that’s the entire point,” he explained. “I must prepare him for any eventuality. And if he is ever in a situation where he must take the car to a mechanic that is _not_ under the patronage of the Crown, then he will need to know the car’s mechanical details.”

Gladio shrugged, giving up the argument and releasing his hold on Ignis’ meticulous notes. He turned towards Ignis then, and paused when he caught sight of him in his pajamas. “You’re going to sleep?” he asked, surprised. “It’s only ten.”

“I have an early day tomorrow,” Ignis replied.

“Yeah?”

“Meetings,” Ignis said, sighing. Meetings that had been put off for far too long, meetings that had been piling up while the King had focused on the prince’s birthday. Ignis couldn’t say he blamed Regis for wanting to give his son the best celebration possible, but they were paying for it now with days packed to the brim with endless discussion and debate.

Gladio frowned. “Politics?” he guessed.

Ignis nodded, heading towards the kitchen. “Lucis’ relationship with the Empire has grown very fraught of late,” he said. “Regis has done all that he can on his own to end the war, but I fear it is going very poorly.”

“Hmm.”

“He is having to involve the royal council now,” Ignis continued, “open the matter for discussion and see if anyone else has thoughts on how to proceed. I believe he is searching for a peaceable solution now, a ceasefire. I think he has given up on hopes of a Lucian victory against Niflheim.” He reached up for a mug, but before his fingers could close on the handle, Gladio reached out and picked it up. He placed it in Ignis’ fingers before grabbing a second one for himself.

“I doubt they'll think of anything Regis hasn't already thought of first,” Gladio said quietly.

“I know,” Ignis said. He paused for a moment, putting a kettle on to heat some water. “But there are other matters that the council must see to as well. The refugee crisis, for one.”

“A crisis?” Gladio frowned. “I knew it was a problem, but since when has it been a _crisis_?”

“There are hundreds of them, Gladio, hundreds of men and women and children pouring into Insomnia every day,” Ignis said. “Some are physically fit and strong, able-bodied despite their homes being destroyed, but there are others…” He broke off, shaking his head. “There are a great many others who need more than simply housing and work.”

“Shit.”

“Indeed.”

“And what does the King think the council is gonna do about it?”

“Personally, I think he wants someone else to take up the responsibility of the refugees,” Ignis explained. “If he can delegate those duties to someone else, someone he can trust to not take advantage of the refugees’ plight, then it leaves him with more time to attend to the problem of the Empire.”

Gladio snorted. “And what’s the likelihood of him finding someone who isn’t an opportunistic bastard?”

“...small.”

The kettle was whistling now, and Ignis took it off the heat. Gladio pushed the mugs towards him, and Ignis filled them almost to the brim before placing a teabag in each cup.

“I would take on the responsibility myself, if my duties did not lie elsewhere,” Ignis continued, staring down at the mugs and watching the tea steep. “As it is…” He shook his head. “I fear I could not give the matter my full attention, not with my responsibilities towards Noctis.”

Gladio shifted then, finding a more comfortable spot on the counter to lean against. “What about Noct?”

Ignis raised an eyebrow at him, not following his train of thought. “What about him?”

“This something Noct could take on?” Gladio suggested. “Something he could do for his dad?”

Ignis hesitated. Though he had been encouraging Noctis to take a more active role in the goings-on of the kingdom, he was reluctant to force such a project on the prince. It was his final year of school, his last opportunity to be a child before he was thrust into Lucian politics forever. As Ignis had told Cor Leonis three weeks ago, if he could give the prince a small window of relaxation before the crushing weight of duty hit him, he would do so.

Perhaps some would accuse him of babying Noctis, of making things too easy for him. And perhaps there was some truth to that. But he had faith in his prince, faith that Noctis would take on his responsibilities when he was ready and perform them admirably.

“If Noctis wishes to do this, I will not stop him.”

It was a purposefully vague answer, and Gladio saw it. He frowned, reaching out to take one of the mugs of tea. “He’s almost an adult, Iggy.” 

“I am well aware of that.”

“And you don’t think he should pick up some of the slack?”

“I don’t think he should be forced to do something that he isn’t ready for.”

“How will you know he’s ready until he tries?”

“Gladio-”

“You’re soft on him, Iggy.”

Ignis pursed his lips, biting down on a hot retort. Instead, he took a large drink of his tea, the liquid scalding his throat. He welcomed the pain of it, allowing it to distract him from the irritation he felt swirling around his thoughts.

“What, not gonna deny it?”

“He has been gradually taking on more responsibility as he has gotten older,” Ignis huffed. “ _Gradually_ , Gladio, and I will allow him to be the judge of what he does with his time. As I said, I will discuss the matter of the refugees with him, and if he is amenable, then I will suggest that he take on the project as his own.”

Gladio snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, leave it up to him,” he retorted. “Like always.”

“What would you have me do?” Ignis demanded. “Force it upon him?”

“It’s gonna happen eventually! He’s not a kid anymore!”

“He’s seventeen!”

“Yeah? And what were _you_ doing when you were seventeen? It sure as hell wasn’t just school and girls and video games.”

“This isn’t about me. The prince and I are two entirely different people, and you cannot compare our situations.”

“The hell I can’t!”

Gladio slammed his mug down on the counter, and the force of his anger shattered it.

“Shit,” he breathed, withdrawing his hand and staring down at it. Several of the ceramic shards had cut into the skin of his palm, blood seeping out of small wounds and splashing onto the floor and pooling in the spilled tea.

Just like that, Ignis’ irritation was replaced by concern, and he set his own mug aside in order to inspect the wounds. None of the cuts were severe, he found, but it would still need cleaning and bandaging.

“Come here,” he said, tugging the other towards the bathroom where his first aid supplies were located.

Gladio jerked his hand back. “Don’t bother,” he muttered, “I’ll do it myself.”

“Gladio.” Ignis kept his voice firm and his gaze stern. “Let me.”

The other still hesitated, not quite meeting his gaze. But then he let out a low, shaky breath, and he nodded.

Ignis led them into the bathroom, pushing Gladio to sit down on the edge of the tub as he grabbed his supplies. With practiced, efficient movements, he cleaned the cuts in warm water and dabbed them with an antibiotic ointment, wrapping everything up in thin, white bandages to protect the wounds while they were healing.

Neither of them spoke as he worked, for which Ignis was much relieved. He didn’t want to argue any more, he found, the thought of it exhausting as well as hurtful. Gladio had a point, he realized, and he was only trying to help. But he and Gladio had vastly different opinions on how best to prepare the prince for his future duties, and nothing Ignis could say would manage to convince the other that his way was best. It was a simply a topic on which they would have to agree to disagree. Better that they stop here, before either of them could say something they truly regretted.

He drew back when he was finished, throwing the bloodied gauze into the trash can and moving to wash his hands. They were shaking, he realized.

Was it anxiety? Or anger?

He turned back to face Gladio. The other hadn’t moved from his spot, blankly staring down at his hand.

“Gladio?”

His lover looked up, eyes curiously guarded. “Yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

Gladio considered this for a moment, and then nodded. “Mmm. Thanks for fixing me up.”

“Of course.”

Ignis looked down at his own clothes, wrinkling his nose at the tea staining the fabric. He quickly removed them, shucking them into the hamper before moving to retrieve a fresh pair of pajamas from the dresser.

Gladio followed him, movements slow and ponderous.

“Are you staying?” Ignis asked, turning towards the other once he was finished changing.

Gladio frowned. “Do you want me to?”

“I do,” Ignis replied. “But if you would rather go back to your own quarters, I understand.”

Gladio sighed, reaching his uninjured hand up to run through his hair. “Shit, Iggy, I…” He broke off, his jaw tense. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry like that.”

“No,” Ignis agreed, sitting on the bed and clasping his hands before him. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

Gladio sat down beside him. “I ruined your mug.”

Ignis snorted at this unexpected statement. “Believe me, Gladio, that is the least of my worries right now.”

“Us? You and me?” Gladio asked. “That what you’re worried about?”

Ignis nodded. “Can you accept that we have different ideas on how best to prepare Noctis to take his father’s place? Can you accept that this is something we are not likely to agree upon?”

For the first time since the argument, Gladio looked at him - actually looked at him.

“I think so,” he said quietly.

“Good.” Ignis released a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, his relief palpable.

“Can you?”

The question caught him off-guard, and he frowned.

“Yes, Gladio,” he said. “We do not have to be in accord on every topic.”

“No,” the other allowed. “Guess not. So long as we agree on most things.”

“Which we do.” Ignis held out a hand then, nodding back towards the bed. “Now - shall we go to bed?”

“You go to sleep,” Gladio said, shaking his head. “I’ll go clean up the kitchen.”

Ignis was surprised at that - in his haste to make sure Gladio’s injuries were attended to, he had completely forgotten the broken mug and spilled tea. “Alright,” he murmured. “But you’ll come after that?”

“Yeah. After that.”

Gladio pressed a short, hesitant kiss to Ignis’ cheek and left the room, heading off towards the kitchen. Ignis stared after him for a moment, half-expecting to hear him leave the apartment completely. But Gladio returned in just a few minutes, snorting when he saw that Ignis was still waiting up for him. The tension between them eased a little after that, and Ignis was able to crawl into bed, curling up on his side with Gladio comfortably pressed against his back.

* * * * *

It was several days before they regained the easy camaraderie they had developed, and several more days before things returned completely to normal between them. 

Ignis supposed that this was quite common in relationships. Wounds caused by words may not have been visible, but they were no less hurtful than real, physical injuries. He and Gladio were lucky that the argument had been so small, so short in duration. They had not had time to hurl insults at one another or cause much damage to their still fledgling relationship. Still, the disagreement lay heavy between them, weighing on Ignis’ thoughts when he allowed his mind to wander.

Would the issue come between them again? Would the next fight be so insignificant?

It was perhaps childish of him to hope that there wouldn’t _be_ a next argument, but he found himself wishing it could be so just the same.

Instead of focusing upon that, he threw himself into his work with a vengeance, attending meetings, taking notes, and beginning the prince's driving lessons. It left him with little free time, and those minutes he filled with Gladio, allowing the other to help him relax and take his mind off the pressure of his duties. 

Neither of them mentioned the subject of Noctis taking on more responsibilities again, tactfully avoiding the issue. 

* * * * *

“Specs? You alright?”

Noctis looked over at Ignis from the driver’s seat, and Ignis pointed back to the road. “Eyes in front, Noct,” he admonished.

Obediently, Noctis turned back to the front. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I am fine, Noct,” Ignis replied, sighing. “Just tired. I have been kept very busy of late.”

And wasn't that the truth? He hadn't even been able to relax with Gladio the past several days. That was likely why Noctis was noticing his fatigue more than usual. 

“More meetings?”

Ignis nodded. “I had to rush back to the Citadel after dropping you off at school in order to attend the first,” he replied. “I hadn’t even the time to eat lunch.”

“No?”

Noctis looked over at him again, and this time, Ignis reached out and forcibly turned the prince’s head back. “Eyes on the _road._ ”

“Okaaaaaaay,” Noct drawled. “I’m not gonna crash, Specs. Promise.”

“You might not, but if you aren’t paying attention, someone else’s stupidity might cause an accident,” Ignis lectured. “You must drive defensively, Noctis - assume everyone else is driving dangerously.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“And yet it is infinitely safer than assuming everyone else _is_ self _-_ aware and undistracted.”

“I guess.”

“Turn here,” Ignis instructed, motioning at the next intersection.

Noctis took the turn, not slowing down nearly enough for Ignis’ liking.

“Slower, Noct!”

“My bad!”

Ignis sighed, leaning back in his chair and making sure his seatbelt was properly adjusted. Noctis seemed guilty over the badly handled turn though, and slowed down.

“You’re sure though? You’re just tired? There’s not… something else?”

Ignis blinked. “‘Something else’?” he repeated, sensing that he knew where this was going and hoping he was wrong.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with… Gladio?”

He wasn’t wrong.

“What?” he asked.

Noctis shrugged. “I just noticed that Gladio has seemed a little distracted lately,” he said. “I got a hit on him the other day in practice, nearly knocked him off his feet.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“Just that the two of you had had an argument, and it was distracting him,” Noctis replied. “No details, I promise.”

Ignis sighed. “It’s nothing, Noctis, I assure you,” he said. “My relationship with Gladio has nothing to do with my current level of fatigue.”

“Yeah? I don’t need to have a marriage counseling session for you guys?”

“You are not a therapist, and we are not married.”

“So?” The prince grinned at him then. “How hard can it be?”

“I am fine,” Ignis assured him. “ _We_ are fine. And you just ran right through that stop sign.”

“What?” Noctis yelped, looking back over his shoulder for the missed sign.

“Noct!”

The car jerked alarmingly as Noctis grabbed at the wheel and turned back to the front.

“Sorry!”

The prince sighed then, fingers shifting on the steering wheel.

“I’m never gonna get the hang of this.”

“Never say never, Highness,” Ignis replied. “You are not a _bad_ driver - merely a novice. And one who prefers to drive well above the speed limit.”

Noctis snorted. “Sounds bad to me.”

Ignis made a noncommittal noise. “Give yourself time to learn,” he murmured. “You have only been behind the wheel for two weeks.”

“I guess.”

They were approaching a busy section of town now, and Ignis warned Noctis to be on his guard.

“You worry too much, Specs,” he said.

“I fear the opposite is true,” Ignis retorted.

But Noctis followed Ignis’ instructions, driving carefully through the crowded streets and narrow lanes. He took extra care when changing lanes, and always used his turn signals. He even drove the speed limit, much to Ignis’ delight.

Once they had driven past the traffic and were back onto a less populated parkway, Ignis turned towards his charge and smiled. “See? Not a bad driver after all,” he commented.

Noctis faced him, smiling. “Guess not,” he said. “Must have a pretty good teach - IGNIS!”

“Hmm?”

There was a terrible crunching sound of metal scraping against metal, and Ignis felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly as the car was forced sideways and into the oncoming traffic. Noctis was grappling at the wheel frantically, trying to maintain control of the vehicle. A litany of curses spewed from his lips as he maneuvered the car, eyes blown wide with terror.

_“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-!”_

It was the last thing Ignis heard before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I'm not making Ignis blind here instead of in Altissia. He's just been knocked out. 
> 
> And remember that this has a happy ending and everything is all well and good! I am not suddenly angst-bombing this fic :) Just... taking y'all for a bit of ride here at the end. haha
> 
> Thanks for reading! As always, feedback is much loved and appreciated :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this early, at work, because I have to be an adult and host a party at my house tonight. I'd rather be playing Mass Effect.

Noctis was late.

It wasn’t really unusual, Gladio supposed. The prince wasn’t exactly the type of person who liked to stick to a schedule. Hell, if Ignis didn’t poke and prod him the way that he did, Noctis was more liable to fall asleep than he was to actually keep up with his appointments.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it?

Ignis normally pushed Noctis to be on time for things, especially his almost daily training sessions with Gladio. In fact, since the two of them had gotten together, Iggy hadn’t _ever_ been late for a trip to the Citadel’s athletic facilities. Maybe it had something to do with Gladio’s company, and maybe it didn’t, but the fact remained that the two’s absence was a little worrying.

He looked down at his phone for what felt like the hundredth time that hour, checking the time. It was four twenty-two - almost a full half-hour after Noctis had been scheduled to show up to spar. Frowning, Gladio tapped a few buttons and called Ignis, bringing the phone up to his ear. To his irritation, all that he got was a prerecorded message about how the number he’d dialed was out of service.

“Dammit,” he muttered, ending the call.

Gladio wasn’t sure what to do. Should he tell someone that the others hadn’t shown up? Maybe he should head upstairs, see if the two were in Iggy’s apartment.

The key thing was to not overreact. For all he knew, something had come up and no one had remembered to tell him of the schedule change. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone in the chain of communication had forgotten to send him a message.

The door to the training rooms suddenly burst open, banging hard against the wall. Gladio stood, a wave of relief crashing over him. “‘Bout time-” He paused when he saw that instead of Ignis and Noctis, his father and the King were striding towards him, their expressions grim. “What is it?” he asked instead, frowning.

The King grimaced at him. “Gladiolus. There has been an accident,” he said softly.

Gladio froze. “An accident?” he repeated warily.

“Come with us, son,” his father said, already turning back towards the doors, an impatient note to his voice. “We’ll explain on the way.” He offered the King his arm, but Regis shrugged him off, his attention remaining focused upon Gladio.

“A moment, Clarus, if you will,” he said. “I think we had better explain things to your son before we leave.”

Clarus’ gaze shifted from his liege to his son, and then back again. “You’re sure?” he asked.

“Noctis is quite alright,” the King interjected. “I have spoken to him myself. And in any case, we have a little time to spare before he will be allowed visitors.”

Gladio fought back the surge of worry worming its way into his stomach, years of discipline and focus forcing him to pay attention to what the King was saying. “Sire, what do you mean by accident?” he asked again. Adrenaline was beginning to pump its way through his system now, urging him to move, to do something, to _act._  But his entire body felt wooden, unresponsive, competing with the signals his brain was sending. He found that he could not move. He looked over at his father, hoping to gain some insight into what was happening, but the man wasn't meeting his eyes. Gladio's eyes narrowed at that - he knew something. He knew something Gladio didn’t, something that he knew Gladio wasn’t going to take well.

What the hell was going on?!

“We should sit,” Regis said, motioning to the benches lining the wall.

Gladio wanted to scream in impatience. But he didn’t, holding his tongue as his father helped the King to a seat. He remained standing, even when his father pointed to the seat beside Regis. He couldn’t sit. Not now. He was too on edge, breathless in anticipation. Regis seemed to understand this, and launched into an explanation.

“As I mentioned earlier, there has been an accident. My son was driving his car, with Ignis at his side, when they were involved in a collision.”

_A collision._

“Both of them are alright, their injuries non life-threatening. I fear Ignis took the brunt of the damage, as the car was hit on the passenger side, but I have been assured that he will make a full recovery. I sent a team with Cor to the crash site in order to check for foul play. He is still investigating, but the preliminary results indicate this to have truly been an accident.”

Gladio heard what the King was saying, but he could not comprehend the words. There was a dull sort of roaring in his ears preventing him from hearing anything except “Ignis” and “collision” and “injuries”. The words repeated themselves over and over in his mind, hating them, rejecting them, and at the same time, afraid of them.

“Gladiolus?”

The King’s soft utterance of his name brought him back to the moment.

“What-” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat, attempting to try again. “Where are they?”

“At the moment? Crown Memorial Hospital,” Regis replied. “As soon as Ignis’ condition has stabilized, I will send a transport team to take them back to the Citadel where our own staff can watch over them.”

“And they’re - they’re okay? Noctis? Iggy?”

“They will be fine. As I mentioned earlier, I have spoken to Noctis - he was not even hospitalized, though he did ride in the ambulance with Ignis. Regrettably, Ignis has… not yet awoken.”

“What?”

“The collision knocked him unconscious-”

“ _What?!”_

“Gladiolus,” his father said warningly, noting the rising pitch of his voice.

“I have been told that his injuries appear worse than they actually are,” Regis continued, speaking on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “The bruising is severe, and the lacerations to his arms and legs are numerous, but shallow. Several broken bones, perhaps, they’re doing x-rays now-”

“Fuck!” Gladio cursed, unable to listen to any more. He turned and stalked away, hands behind his head as he forced himself to breathe - long, deep breaths, don’t hyperventilate, don’t panic, _think._

“Gladio!”

“It’s quite alright, Clarus, this is a normal reaction-”

“Like hell it is-”

“Oh, come now, you would be doing the exact same thing were your positions reversed-”

“I would _not_ -”

“Don’t kid yourself, Clarus. The two of you have always been more alike than you’d care to admit.”

Clarus huffed indignantly at that, but said nothing.  

Gladio turned around, walking back towards the two older men, biting his lip so hard he could taste blood. He ignored the irritated look his father sent him, focusing instead upon the King, whose face remained kindly and understanding.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, bowing a little. "I shouldn't have cursed."

“That’s quite alright, Gladiolus. I understand.”

True to his words, Regis didn't appear to be mad. If anything, his expression was empathetic. Gladio didn't know if that was better or worse.

Seeing as how the King hadn't chastised him yet, Gladio thought he might risk a question. “Can I… can I see them?” he asked hopefully. He desperately wanted Regis to say that he could, to relieve him of his duties for the day and let him go to the hospital. He wanted, no,  _needed,_ to get to Ignis. As soon as possible.

“Of course,” Regis replied. Gladio's shoulders physically sank in relief. “That was why we came to see you, after all.” He rose to his feet with a muffled groan, and this time, he did accept the arm Clarus offered him. “Come, we’ve a car waiting.”

Gladio followed the two older men outside, where Regis’ fancy black automobile was waiting for them at the curb. His father helped the King into the backseat, motioning for Gladio to sit up front with the driver. It was only a short drive to the hospital, perhaps fifteen minutes, but Gladio would remember none of it. The cityscape passed them by as they drove, and his father and the King were murmuring in the backseat, but Gladio wasn’t paying attention.

The only thing on his mind was Ignis, and what he would see when they arrived at the hospital.

* * * * *

Ignis awoke.

He wasn’t wearing his glasses, but he could tell that the ceiling above him was stark white, plain industrial tiles of the sort that could be found in a number of public buildings. He didn’t recognize it, just as he did not recognize the harsh, antiseptic smell that permeated the air. Where was he? What had happened? He was lying down, the mattress - if that was what it was - beneath him hard and unyielding. It was difficult to move, his arms and legs like lead, and there was an annoying beeping noise somewhere to the side.

Was this… was this a hospital?

He tried to think back, tried to recall what had happened last. He had been… he had been driving, yes, that was it. Or no, he hadn’t been driving, _Noctis_ had been driving, and then -

They had crashed. Or someone had crashed into them. One of the two; his mind was still hazy from sleep. But if they had crashed, and he was in the hospital, then that meant…

“Noctis,” he murmured, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He twisted, looking to his side to see if he could find a nurse.

It hurt.

He gasped at the shock of it, clenching his eyes shut to fight off the pain. What was the extent of his injuries? He looked down, trying to check his body for wounds, but he was covered with multiple blankets, and when he tried to lift a hand to throw them away, he found that he couldn’t. He huffed out an irritated breath and put forth a bit more effort, again trying to raise the limb. He had to see, he had to understand the extent of the damage, he had to _know_ -

“Whoa, there!”

A nurse had entered the room and noticed his struggle. She set the things in her arms down on a nearby counter and quickly rushed over to him, helping him move to a seated position and adjusting the bed accordingly.

“You’re awake!” she said, smiling.

“Yes, that is blatantly obvious,” Ignis retorted. “What happened?”

She ignored him - or maybe she hadn’t heard the quip. He was speaking very softly, he noticed, his throat too tight for much noise to escape.

“How’re you feeling? Good? Bad? So-so?” She had retrieved her items - a clipboard and several charts, he noted - and was flipping through them with practiced ease. “You can just make a face if you can’t talk.”

“Bad,” he croaked.

“Mmm, I reckon so. You were pretty banged up when you came in here!” She set the charts aside then and went to check on the various monitors at the side of the bed. “Heart rate and blood pressure are stable though. Both goods signs!”

“What happened?”

“Car crash,” the nurse replied. She pulled a stethoscope from around her neck, placing the end on his chest. “Breathe in for me? And out?” Ignis complied, taking as deep a breath as he could; the large inhalation stretched the skin of his torso tight, and he winced at the pain. The nurse noted this, nodding to herself as she listened to the movements of his lungs.

“Do I have a broken rib?” Ignis guessed, trying to put a name to the injury.

“Not quite.” The nurse removed the stethoscope then, putting it back around her neck. “We thought you might, because of the bruising around your torso and how the other car hit you guys. But we did a couple x-rays when you first got here, and nothing was broken. Doctors didn’t hear any fluid in your lungs either, so no punctures. Looks like the worst you’ve got is a bunch of contusions, _maybe_ a hairline fracture or two. Can’t say the same for your nose though! That was broken clean through - something whacked you good!”

“Ah.”

That explained why there were bandages taped to his face then, why his glasses lay broken on the side table instead of neatly folded alongside his other possessions.

“Now, I’m going to ask you a few questions. They might seem strange, but please, just try to answer as best as you can. Alright. First - what is your name?”

“Ignis Scientia.”

“How old are you, Ignis? When is your birthday?”

“I’m nineteen. And I was born on February seventh.”

“And do you know what day it is today?”

“September the thirteenth.”

“Good!” She smiled at him, as if he were a child that had performed some marvelous trick, and Ignis grimaced. “You did hit your head on the car - that was what knocked you unconscious in the first place - but the doctors ordered a CT scan and they didn’t see any swelling or contusions. You seem to have your bearings too, so I don’t think there’s any memory loss.”

“I don’t remember the collision,” he admitted.

“Nah, you wouldn’t,” she said. “Your friend - the driver - said you blacked out pretty quick.”

_Noctis._

The nurse must’ve seen his expression change at the mention of the prince. “He’s okay, by the way - not nearly as banged up as you! Walked away from the crash on his own two feet. Been out in the waiting room ever since.”

_Thank the Six._

He chose to ignore that the Crown prince of Lucis had been sitting in a waiting room in a public hospital _by himself_ for the past… goodness knew how many hours, focusing instead on the fact that he was unharmed.

“May I see him?” Ignis asked.

“Sure! You’ve got a couple of other visitors as well. Let me just go and get the doctor, and then I’ll let your friends in to see you.”

Ignis contemplated who the nurse meant by “friends” as she walked away, closing the door behind her. Gladio, perhaps? He hoped that his lover was here, though a small part of him was reluctant to let the other see him like this. It wasn’t vanity, per se; rather, he would not want to see Gladio, bandaged and broken, lying in a hospital bed, and wished he could spare the other the sight. A larger part of him, though, wanted Gladio to rush into the room and sweep him into a tight embrace, refusing to let him go until the doctor physically dragged them apart.

He should discourage Gladio from doing such, of course; his ribs were entirely too bruised for that, the gesture more likely to harm him than help him.

It also probably wouldn’t be appropriate for a public hospital.

Still. It would have been terribly romantic.

* * * * *

“Gladio. Stop pacing.”

Gladio glared down at the prince, though he _did_ stop walking back and forth across the hospital waiting room. He couldn’t help it, not really - they’d been here for over an _hour_ now, and none of them had been allowed back to visit Ignis. Even the King had been told that it would be better to wait until the doctors had gotten a second look at the injuries.

It was total bullshit. He had half a mind to just charge through the doors into the hospital proper, the nurse’s orders be damned. Who was going to stop him? But that wouldn’t reflect well on the Crown, he thought darkly, and Ignis would _kill_ him if he made a spectacle of himself in Ignis’ name.

His father seemed to have had enough of his irritable patrol. Clarus rose to his feet with an irritated huff, slamming a hand on Gladio’s shoulder and steering him towards an empty seat. “Gods, boy, you’re like a cat in heat,” he snapped. “What good is stalking around like an angry behemoth going to do?”

“Hah. Behemoth.” Noctis snorted. “Funny.”

“Shove off.”

“Gladiolus!”

“The resemblance is there,” Noct continued, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can’t deny it.”

He’d heard the jibe before; all of Gladio’s friends in the Crownsguard taunted him with the moniker, comparing him to the big creature at every chance they got.

“So original,” he snapped. “No one’s _ever_ called me that before.”

Clarus looked over at Regis, shaking his head. “Were we ever this bad as children?”

“Worse,” Regis deadpanned.

Clarus snorted at that.

Silence resumed, seconds turning into minutes as they sat in that small waiting room. Eventually, Noctis took out his phone, loading up a game that he had recently started playing. Across the room, Cor was fervently discussing information with his team of men and women, trying to make the final call on whether the car crash had been deliberate or not.

Gladio could do neither, his thoughts focused on Ignis and Ignis alone. How could Noct just play a game like that, knowing that Iggy was hurt, that he was _injured_? Had he seen the other’s injuries? Did he know the extent of them? Was that why he wasn’t worried?

He paused then, considering this. He hadn’t asked Noct anything about Iggy’s wounds. Surely he knew _something._ Desperate for information, he nudged the prince with his elbow. “Hey.”

Noctis looked up, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Yeah?”

“Have you… you seen him?”

“Ignis?” Gladio nodded. “I mean, I saw him in the car, and I rode with him to the hospital. But I haven’t seen him since they took him back there.” Noctis gestured towards the double doors that separated the waiting room from the treatment area.

“How was it?”

Noctis swallowed then, the hand holding his phone falling into his lap. “Honestly? I have no idea,” he muttered. “I don’t know what the doctors were looking for. But there was… a lot of blood, Gladio. The car’s totaled.” He shot his father a sheepish look, to which Regis shook his head.

“It wasn’t your fault, Noctis, the police have assured me of that,” the King said. “The car that hit you ignored a traffic signal. There was very little you could have done. And if I was informed correctly, you managed to steer the car out of further incoming traffic, protecting you and Ignis both from further harm.”

_There was… a lot of blood._

Gladio could ask no more questions of the prince, his throat strangely tight. He’d long ago bloodied his lower lip, bitten it hard to keep from lashing out, and he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue once more as he drew his lip into his mouth again.

“Still, this is - it’s Ignis, Dad, I -” Noctis broke off suddenly, and rose to his feet.

Gladio looked up to see a woman in a long white coat walking briskly towards them. He jumped out of the chair, taking half a step towards her before thinking better of it.

“Your Majesty,” the woman said, bowing first to the King and then to Noctis. “My name is Aurelia Cassianus. I was the doctor on call when Mr. Scientia was brought to the emergency room. It was me who called you earlier.”

“Ah, good,” Regis said, using his cane to bring himself to his feet. “And what can you tell us of Ignis’ condition, Dr. Cassianus? Apart from what you told me over the phone, of course.”

“He’s doing well, all things considered,” the doctor replied. “His condition is stable, and all of his vitals are good. We ran some tests shortly after he was brought in - x-rays and a CT scan - but other than his nose, there’s no sign of any broken bones, and there isn't any intracranial swelling. He’s heavily bruised, and pretty beaten up. But with some rest and mild painkillers, he should make a full recovery.”

Gladio didn’t understand the medical jargon - he’d never really paid much attention in his anatomy and physiology class. But he latched onto the doctor’s last sentence, her words like a lifeline.

“Can we see him?”

He had stepped forward, forgetting himself, interjecting into the doctor’s conversation with the King. Dr. Cassianus looked a little surprised at his sudden question, her blue eyes flicking back to the monarch uncertainly, but Regis waved a hand.

“This is Gladiolus Amicitia,” he explained, smiling. “Ignis’ partner.”

“Oh.” The doctor’s eyes widened. “ _Oh!_ ”

“He’s been very worried - as have we all.”

“Well, of course, you can see him at once,” Dr. Cassianus replied. “He just woke up a little while ago. If you’ll follow me.” She headed towards the double doors, holding them open expectantly.

Regis turned to Gladio then, waving him forward. “You go on, Gladiolus,” he said. “We’ll be by in a few minutes.”

“You - you don’t-”

“I think you should be the first one that he sees,” the King said, guessing at Gladio’s incoherence. “I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

Gladio nodded, grateful beyond words that he was being given the chance to see Ignis alone. He didn’t know what to expect, and thus he couldn't predict his reaction. He knew better than anyone that he had a bit of a temper, that he didn't always have an ideal response to a crisis. So he would prefer to see Ignis alone first, without any of the others present. That way, he would have time to compose himself, to let Ignis talk him down from... wherever he might go.

And wasn't that rich? 

Ignis was lying in a hospital bed, probably disoriented and hurting, and Gladio still desperately needed him. 

Man, he had it bad.

He just hoped he never met the guy who'd crashed into them. He didn't think he'd be able to restrain himself.

* * * * *

The door opened again, and the friendly face Ignis had associated with his doctor poked its way through the gap. “Ignis,” Dr. Cassianus said, smiling, “You have a visitor.” She opened the door a little wider then, stepping out of the way to let another person pass over the threshold.

It was Gladio.

He paused in the doorway, staring at Ignis with wide amber eyes. Ignis sat up a little straighter and tried to speak, but he quickly found that there was nothing to say. Gladio seemed similarly affected, mouth working furiously but no sound issuing from his lips. For perhaps a full minute, they stared at each other in silence, the tension between them thick and heavy.

And then the doctor cleared her throat, and the spell was broken. Ignis looked over to her questioningly, and she smiled knowingly.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, shutting the door behind her.

Ignis turned back to his lover. “Gladio-”

The other man stumbled forward, sinking down into the chair beside Ignis’ bed. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles gone white with strain. There was a haggard look to his face, as well; Ignis hadn’t been able to see it from across the room, but now that the other was here, right next to him… the worry was clear, deep lines etched in Gladio’s forehead.

He was staring at Ignis, eyes flitting from the bandages on his face to those wrapped around his right arm to those circling his torso. His lips pressed tightly together, something pained in his eyes.

Ignis felt terribly guilty then - an illogical feeling, he knew. His condition was neither his fault nor Gladio’s, and there was nothing for him to feel ashamed about. Still, he felt a need to assuage the sensation, to ease the tension in his lover’s frame.

“It isn’t as bad as it looks,” he tried, opening his left hand for Gladio to take, should he wish.

Gladio finally looked him in the eye. “It looks… pretty fucking bad, Iggy.”

“I have been assured it is mostly bruising.” He gingerly raised his right hand to the side of his face, delicately tapping the bandages atop the bridge of his nose. “Except for this, of course. It is broken.”

“Gods.” Gladio dragged a hand over his face, breathing out a low, shaky breath. “I thought something had happened when you didn’t show up for Noct’s training session. But this… shit, Iggy, I didn’t think it was something like _this_.”

“I have suffered only minor injuries-”

“You were in a fucking car crash.” Despite the vehemence of his words, Gladio hadn’t raised his voice. He said it as a simple statement of fact. “The car is _totaled_ , Noct said, ruined.”

Ignis grimaced. He had hoped that that wouldn’t be the case. Noctis had had the car for so short a time, and it had already been wrecked. It wasn’t the prince’s fault, though - just sheer, almost unbelievable, bad luck.

“Are you okay?”

Ignis blinked. “I am _fine_ , Gladio,” he said, attempting to lace his words with confidence.

“You don’t look fine.”

He sighed. “I honestly don’t even feel the bruises unless I move,” he admitted. “And the hospital has written me prescriptions for several very strong painkillers should I require them.” He chanced a smile then, though he kept it small. “I could make a fortune on the black market with them, I think, had I any desire to sell them.”

Gladio snorted, amused despite the situation. “Like you’d ever do anything like that.” He eased a little closer to Ignis then, finally reaching out to take the hand he been had offered. His touch was gentle, a barely there pressure against the skin.

“I’m not made of glass, Gladio,” Ignis said, a touch reprovingly.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Well, considering that that is my _left_ hand, and I was injured on my right side, I’d say you are not in any danger of doing so.”

Gladio blinked at him, and then let out a weak laugh. He strengthened his grip on Ignis’ hand, turning it into a proper hold. “Fuck, look at me,” he muttered. “You're the one in the hospital, and I'm a mess.”

“I should say you’re in a worse state than I am,” Ignis admitted.

“I was - _am_ \- worried,” Gladio explained. “The King and my dad came to get me from the training rooms, you know. I... didn’t know what they wanted at first. And then Regis said there’d been an accident, and he mentioned you, and Noct, and… that… didn’t exactly help.”

“Did they now?”

“Mmm. Wanted to take me to the hospital themselves.”

“I… take it Regis knows about us then.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Definitely.” Gladio snorted. “Like Dad could keep a secret to save his life.”

Ignis tactfully chose not to mention that the same could be said of Gladio.

“Look, I’m just… I’m really glad you’re alright.” Gladio’s thumb was rubbing circles upon the palm of Ignis’ hand then; it was such a sweet, comforting gesture, as much to soothe Gladio’s worry as Ignis’ pain.

Ignis wished he could have reached out and embraced the other, the need for more physical contact almost overwhelming, but he had no desire to move and stretch out his bruised ribs.

Gladio seemed to sense what he wanted though, for he shifted to the bed so that he could sit beside Ignis. His free hand came up to touch Ignis’ cheek, careful to avoid his bandaged nose.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You have to ask?” Ignis retorted.

“Don’t want the doctor to get mad at me,” Gladio said hastily.

“Is she here?”

“But, you know, cameras-”

“Gladio, quite frankly, I don’t give a damn about who sees us.”

“Yeah, okay.”

It was perhaps the sweetest kiss Gladio had ever given him.

The others - Noctis, the King, Clarus, and Cor Leonis - arrived shortly thereafter, giving Ignis their best well wishes for a speedy recovery. They were polite, standing around his bedside and bringing him up to speed on what had happened during the accident and the state of the car, thankfully avoiding much ado about his injuries. Ignis hated being fussed over, especially by someone like Noctis, who was supposed to be _his_ charge. That they didn’t give the bandages encompassing his body more than a passing mention greatly lifted his spirits.

The car had been brought back to the Citadel already, Cor informed him, where the Crown’s mechanics were looking over the broken frame. They were attempting to see if the vehicle could be salvaged, or if it was a lost cause.

Noctis adamantly apologized to him - several times in fact. Even after multiple people protested that it hadn’t been his fault, the prince still seemed determined to take the blame upon himself. Ignis wasn’t surprised by that; it was just the way that Noctis was. He took his mistakes - perceived or genuine - hard, quite critical of his actions for a teenager. Ignis would have to remember to attempt to mitigate that guilt. He did not blame Noctis for what had happened. No one did.

A few hours later, he was discharged with a packet of instructions and a bag full of painkillers and extra bandages. To Ignis’ surprise, the doctor had walked right up to Gladio and given him an earful about how to take care of an injured patient. Noctis thought this was very funny - Gladio being lectured by a woman whose head barely grazed his shoulder. Gladio, on the other hand, took her commands very seriously, listening to her words with rapt attention.

Ignis thought it was rather endearing.

Though the journey back to the Citadel was short, Ignis was exhausted by the time they arrived in Gladio’s apartment. He collapsed into the chair closest to him, letting his head droop forward onto his chest as he struggled to regain his breath.

“You okay?”

Gladio had noticed his panting, dropping his bags off by the door and instantly heading to Ignis’ side.

“I am fine,” he replied, waving a hand dismissively. “Just fatigued.”

“Wanna move to the bed?”

“Honestly? I would prefer to remain here.”

Gladio nodded. “Sit tight then. I’ll get some blankets and pillows.”

Ignis did his best to relax into the chair, sinking back into the cushions and letting his eyes slip closed. He fell into a doze almost instantly, only waking again when he felt an insistent tug at his foot. He cracked an eye open to see Gladio pulling off his shoes, setting them neatly at the base of the chair. The other had already placed a pillow behind his head, he realized, and tucked him in underneath a soft, off-white blanket.

“Go back to sleep,” Gladio murmured. He stood, pressing down on the lever that would recline Ignis’ chair. Ignis murmured his thanks, stretching out a little and turning over onto his uninjured side.

Had this chair ever been so comfortable before? He didn’t think so.

Strange.

A pair of lips pressed a warm kiss to his forehead. “Night, Iggy.”

Ignis smiled, vaguely aware of Gladio laying down on the couch to his left. That was silly, he thought. Just because Ignis hadn’t been able to make it to the bed didn’t mean Gladio was relegated to the couch. But he doubted that he would be able to change the other’s mind, and if he was honest, he rather liked that Gladio was keeping close.

It made him feel safe, comfortable.

It made him feel loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now all that's left is the sweet, sweet, (read: smutty) conclusion :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! As always, I love to hear what you guys have to say, so feel free to drop me a comment if you'd like :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourselves, folks.
> 
> My birthday is March 31st, and Gladio's birthday is April 2nd, and so I've basically made this chapter sickeningly fluffy and sweet and ooey gooey as a completely self-indulgent gift to the two of us. Oh, and there's smut too. Happy birthday to us!
> 
> (Also, I'm SUPER THIRSTY after shirtless Gladio from the latest DLC, so yeah. Smut was definitely happening here.)

Ignis awoke the next morning, feeling rather like he had been hit by a - well, a car.

He groaned, shifting onto his back. Sometime during the night, he had switched to his right side, the side that he normally slept upon. His bruised and battered arm and leg were throbbing now, and upon further inspection, he found that several of the cuts dotting his skin had reopened. He would have to rebandage them, he realized, and moved to sit up. His head throbbed in protest at the action, and he winced.

“Hey.”

The voice came not from the couch, where he was expecting to find Gladio, but from somewhere off to his right. He looked up, the edges of his vision blurry due to a lack of glasses, to see the other standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a frying pan in one hand and a spatula in the other.

“Don’t move - I’ll be right there.”

Gladio disappeared for a moment, and when he returned, it was without the cooking implements. He knelt down beside Ignis’ chair, reaching out a hand to inspect the spots where he was bleeding. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“Rather poorly,” Ignis admitted. He grimaced as Gladio worked his fingers over a particularly tender spot.

Gladio didn’t miss the look. “That hurt?” Ignis nodded, and the other withdrew. “Hang on, lemme get something to bandage that up.”  He moved, not to the bathroom, but to the table, where Ignis noticed several shopping bags. “I went to the pharmacy this morning, before you woke up,” Gladio explained as he began sifting through the bags, searching for something. “Thought I’d get a few things.”

“A few things?” Ignis repeated. He counted the bags - five in all, each stuffed to the brim, the plastic straining in protest. “Gladio, that’s more than a few things.”

“Yeah, well.” Gladio shrugged. “I didn’t know how long you’d be staying with me. Just wanted to be prepared.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow, the movement at odds with the warm feeling spreading through his chest. “And so you bought out the corner store?”

“It’s just essentials.” Gladio returned to his side then, a box of adhesive bandages and some antibiotic ointment in his hands. Ignis was silent as his lover worked, cleaning out the cuts with a gentleness that belied his large frame. He was quick and efficient, being careful not to press too hard on the wounds. When he was finished, he sat back on his haunches and looked up at Ignis. “There.”

Ignis inspected his arm, a hint of a smile crossing his face. “Is there a reason the bandages have little chocobos on them?” he asked slowly.

“What’s wrong with baby chocobos?” Gladio demanded, pushing himself up to his feet.

“Nothing.”

“It was all they had left,” Gladio continued. “It was that or lime green and pink stripes. Would you’ve preferred that?”

“Chocobos it is, then.” The smell of cooked food hit his nose then, and he frowned. Yes, Gladio had had a frying pan and a spatula in his hand when he’d awoken. Had he been… had he been cooking? He sniffed the air again, trying to discern what the food was. It smelled surprisingly good, his stomach making a rather embarrassingly loud noise of agreement.

Gladio chuckled. “You hungry?”

“I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning,” Ignis admitted.

“I made omelettes.” Gladio retreated into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with two plates laden with eggs and toast. He handed one to Ignis before settling down onto the sofa and beginning to eat.

Ignis surveyed the meal curiously. He had never eaten Gladio’s cooking before - unless one counted the ramen they had made together that one time, which he didn’t.

Six, but that felt like a lifetime ago. He could still remember the way Gladio had asked - no, demanded - his help in the library, and the way he had begged to do the shopping with Ignis. He had held onto Ignis’ every word and instruction that afternoon, attempting to perform every action to the utmost of his ability. Ignis’ smile widened just thinking about it, the warm feeling in his chest intensifying and flooding him with a soft, gentle heat.

“When did you learn to make omelettes?” he asked. The eggs were filled with all sorts of vegetables, he noticed upon further inspection - tomatoes, peppers, onions, mushrooms - and the top was sprinkled with cheese and various spices. His mouth was watering just looking at it.

“Hey, I told you I could cook,” Gladio said, grinning.

“And I never doubted you,” Ignis said innocently.

Gladio snorted. “Yeah, right,” he teased. “I used to make these for Iris all the time, when I still lived with her and Dad. It was one of the only things I could make that she liked.” He shook his head fondly, pausing to take a drink of something that looked like orange juice. “Now she has to deal with Jared’s eggs. She hates ‘em, says he leaves them runny.”  

“The horror.”

“It’s okay though. Everything else Jared makes is far better than anything I ever tried to feed her. I wasn’t kidding when I told you I needed lessons making better food.”

“Cooking is mostly practice,” Ignis replied. “Anybody can become skilled over time.”

Gladio shot him a sheepish look. “Yeah, but if I’d practiced, I wouldn’t have had a reason to keep talking to you,” he reasoned.

“I only gave you the one lesson,” Ignis said flatly. “And as I seem to recall, we hardly needed that excuse to keep speaking to one another.”

Gladio shrugged. “I wanted a backup plan.”

If Ignis hadn’t been so privately thrilled at this admission, he would have snorted in amusement. As it was, the words were so entirely endearing that he found he had no reply. Instead, he picked up his fork and cut off a bit of the omelette, bringing it to his lips to taste.

Gladio waited for Ignis to take a bite of the food, watching his expression with bated breath.

“So? How is it?”

It was delicious.

A part of that judgment may have stemmed from the fact that he hadn’t eaten in almost a full twenty-four hours. He also thought it likely the omelette tasted so good because, for once, he hadn’t made it himself. And perhaps it just tasted wonderful because _Gladio_ had made it for him, trying to take care of him while he was injured. Even knowing all of that, Ignis thought it was the best thing he’d ever eaten.

“It’s wonderful, Gladio, truly,” he said.

Gladio beamed at him.

They ate the rest of their meal in companionable silence, and by the time he was finished, Ignis felt much better. Now, he thought that he would like to take a bath, and have a cup of coffee. He moved to get up from the chair; instantly, the pain returned, and he grimaced as he fought to rise to his feet. 

Gladio watched him the entire time, perhaps wary of him falling. “Going somewhere?”

“Would you mind if I used your shower?”

“‘Course,” Gladio replied easily. “You don’t have to ask.”

Ignis nodded. “Have you a spare towel? And perhaps clothing I could wear?”

“You wanna wear my clothes?” Gladio grinned at this, eyeing Ignis in a way that left no doubt as to what he was thinking.

“Seeing as how I have none of my own,” Ignis retorted.

“You could just walk around naked,” Gladio suggested, even as he led the way into the bedroom and began pulling clothes out of a drawer. “I wouldn’t complain.”

“You would leer.”

“Well… yeah.”

Ignis pointedly took the towel and clothes Gladio offered him and made for the bathroom.

“Need any help?”

“Is the help entirely sincere, or does the help just want to see my naked backside?”

“Both?”

“I will be fine, Gladio. I’m not _that_ injured.”

And with that, Ignis politely, but firmly, shut the door in the other’s face.

Despite his confident words, he probably could have used a little assistance. As it was, he sat down on the edge of the bathtub while he washed himself, keeping his weight off his unsteady legs. It felt good, the hot water sloughing the dirt and grime from his skin. He lingered a bit longer than was normal, enjoying the feeling of it beating down upon him. Eventually though, the water began to run cold, and he turned the shower off, carefully rising to his feet and clambering out of the tub.

The clothes Gladio had given him were simple, a dark t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. Both were far too big for Ignis’ frame, hanging loose about him. But they were soft and clean, and they  vaguely smelled like Gladio, a fact which sent a happy little tingle up Ignis’ spine. He allowed himself to breathe the scent in for a moment, relishing it, before pushing the door open and returning to the living room.

Gladio wasn’t there.

That was curious, but Ignis’ questions were allayed when he noticed a note sitting atop the chair he had slept upon the previous night. He sat down, opening the paper and reading its contents.

_Gone out for a bit. Be back in 15._

There was no signature at the bottom, but Ignis would have recognized Gladio’s messy handwriting anywhere. He put the note aside then and pulled out his phone, planning to contact Noctis while he had some spare time. To his surprise, he saw that he already had several text messages from the prince, despite the early hour.

**8:04 a.m. < Noctis > hey specs. hope you’re feeling better. sorry. again.**

**8:05 a.m. < Noctis > don’t even think about driving me around today. cor’s got it. **

**8:07 a.m. < Noctis > actually don’t even leave gladio’s apartment. just relax for a few days. make gladio stay there with you, too. I can go a few days without training.**

**8:10 a.m. < Noctis > and that’s a royal decree, specs. I mean it.**

Ignis chuckled. His charge knew him well, it would seem, guessing that he would want to return to his duties as soon as possible. And he did wish to do so - he disliked being idle, and the stack of reports on his desk wouldn’t simply wait for him to return. They would only multiply in his absence. But perhaps, just this once, it would be prudent to take a day or two off. Just the two, and then he would go back to his normal routine. And he would ask Gladio to swing by his apartment and pick up some things so that he could read while he recuperated. There was nothing wrong with his eyesight.

Speaking of eyesight, he would need to ask Gladio to retrieve his spare pair of glasses, if the other was going to stop by his apartment. And some fresh clothing - he certainly couldn’t leave here wearing Gladio’s clothing. Or rather, he could, but he would never hear the end of it.

Actually, he thought to himself, he had better make a list so his lover wouldn’t forget anything. He grabbed the pen Gladio had left beside the note, flipping the piece of paper over and quickly penning out a set of things he would like the other to retrieve from his apartment. He had just underlined “coffee” three times when the door opened and Gladio returned.

“I’m back,” he announced, closing the door softly behind him. He walked over to Ignis, handing him a tall disposable cup of coffee. The smell wafting from it was heavenly, Ignis thought as he took it.

“What’s this?” he asked. He turned the cup around, surprised to see the logo of one of his favorite Insomnian cafes emblazoned upon the white background. It was just a short walk away from the Citadel; was that where Gladio had gone?

Gladio shrugged. “I don’t have any coffee here,” he explained. “Figured I’d go and get some for you, have it ready for you when you were done. Guess I overshot it by a few minutes. Sorry.”

Ignis stared at him for a moment.

“What is it?” Gladio asked, frowning. “I get the wrong thing, or something?”

“I-”

Ignis couldn’t speak. A thought had just occurred to him, set ablaze by the seemingly innocuous cup of coffee in his hands.

Gladio loved him. _Loved_ him. The other had said as much before, of course, but words and actions were two entirely different things, and as the old adage went, one spoke louder than the other. More than anything he had ever said to Ignis, it was the little things that he had done over the past twelve hours that really showed how very deeply he cared. Making sure he was comfortable in the chair, sleeping on the couch so that he wouldn’t be alone, waking up early and making him breakfast, getting him _coffee_ …

There was a lump in his throat, preventing him from saying anything.

For so many months, he hadn’t wanted to put a name to the feelings Gladio evoked within him. At first, he hadn’t known what to make of them; he had had no reference point from which to compare them. Then, as their relationship had developed, he has hesitated to put a label to the complex set of emotions he felt towards the other man. Respect, friendship, and loyalty, yes, but there was also care, trust, warmth, desire. All of these and more had commingled in his heart, creating one larger feeling that burned hot and bright whenever Gladio was near him. It was an intense feeling, so strong and powerful that thinking about it for too long left him breathless. It scared him.

Terrified him, even.

Was he allowed to feel so strongly for one person? Was he allowed to hinge his happiness upon the existence of another’s? His life was not his own; he had known that when he had first felt this burgeoning attraction to Gladio, and the other had made mention of it as well. They had discussed it multiple times, acknowledging it, allowing it. It was, irrevocably, who they were.

Did that duty, that honorbound fealty to Lucis and Noctis, allow Ignis a part of himself that he was free to give to another?

Gladio seemed to think so. He had never seemed to have any difficulty reconciling his feelings for Ignis with his duties to the prince. There was a time and place for both, he had argued, and though Noctis had to come first, that didn’t mean that Ignis was second.

Ignis hadn’t understand what the other had meant at the time.

Now, holding his cup of coffee and staring up at Gladio, he thought he understood.

“You feeling okay, Iggy?”

Ignis blinked at the question. “Gladio,” he said.

The other squatted down, so that their heights were more equal. He put a hand on Ignis’ thigh, an eyebrow cocked in question. “What’s up?” he asked.

_I love you._

Instead of answering, Ignis set his coffee aside and brought a hand up to the other’s face. Gladio just stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

He couldn’t.

He settled for kissing the other, using his lips and tongue to convey everything that he felt and could not say, to give voice to every emotion swirling around in his head. Gladio made a surprised noise somewhere in the back of his throat, but he hardly protested, leaning forward and returning the kiss just as ardently.

It was a bit stilted, Ignis’ movements restricted by the soreness in his muscles, but they managed, shifting so that Ignis was pushed back further in the chair with Gladio between his legs. Somewhere in the transition, Gladio had lost his shirt; never one to waste an opportunity, Ignis snaked his hands up the other man’s torso, fingers dancing across the heated, taut skin.

Gladio’s lips pressed a little harder against his in response, tongue poking insistently at Ignis’ mouth. Ignis allowed his lover to take control of the kiss, focusing instead upon touching and feeling his way across the planes of Gladio’s body with one hand, the other coming up to grab at Gladio's thick, dark hair.

A part of him - the cautious, ever responsible part - suggested that he stop this here and now, before things progressed any further. Another part wanted to throw caution to the wind and press himself ever closer to Gladio, until he could not tell where he ended and Gladio began.

He shivered as the thought took hold of him, this part of his mind winning out over its wary counterpart. He and Gladio had never taken that final step in their physical encounters, instead using their hands, mouths, and friction to find release. And there was nothing wrong with that - he had enjoyed each experience immensely, both due to Gladio’s passion as a lover and the man’s ability to lower Ignis’ inhibitions entirely. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted more - it had just never seemed like the right time, or, to be frank, entirely necessary.

But now things were different. He needed to get as close to Gladio as possible, and then perhaps closer still. He wanted Gladio to be his, in every possible way, and he Gladio’s.

His mind made up, he reached out, tugging insistently at Gladio’s shorts.

Gladio caught his hands before he made much progress, releasing Ignis’ lips in favor of his neck. His breath was hot as it fanned against Ignis’ skin, sending a little shiver of delight through him.  

“Not that I’m complaining,” he murmured, pressing feverish kisses to Ignis’ throat, “but should we be doing this now?"

“I want it,” Ignis replied, pulling hard enough on Gladio’s hair to draw a groan from his lips. “I want you.”

“You have me.”

Ignis huffed in frustration, using his leverage on the other’s hair to tilt his head back so he could look him straight in the eye. “I don’t think you understand me.”

“Hmm?” Gladio turned towards the arm gripping him, kissing at the soft, delicate skin of Ignis’ wrist. It was immensely distracting, but Ignis was not about to be denied.

“Stop that,” he said.

“I don’t want to.”

“Gladio.” Ignis drew his hand away, and the other turned back towards him, eyes smoldering behind a playful glimmer. Six, but he was making this difficult. “I want you to fuck me.”

There was a sharp inhale of breath, and the hand at Ignis’ neck gripped a little tighter. “You sure?” Gladio asked.

“Yes,” Ignis breathed. “Please, Gladio.”

Gladio shuddered at the sheer longing Ignis knew was present in his voice. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said.

Ignis shot him a firm look. “You won’t.”

Gladio drew back, staring at him, his eyes searching. He seemed to like what he saw there, for a moment later, he nodded and rose to his feet, reaching a hand out for Ignis to take. Ignis blankly stared up at him, uncomprehending, until Gladio let out a weak chuckle. “I’m not gonna fuck you for the first time in a chair, Iggy,” he said.

Hearing him say what he intended to do - what Ignis very much wanted him to do - in so many words sent a fresh thrill through Ignis. He pushed himself to his feet, taking the other’s hand and letting himself be led into the bedroom.

Gladio gently urged him to sit on the bed, nudging his knees apart with a leg so that he could stand in between them. A moment later, he reached down, pulling Ignis’ shirt off with one hand and pushing him backwards with the other. He grimaced at the sight of the bruises dotting Ignis’ flesh, at the ugly purple and yellow mottling his skin.

“They’re just bruises,” Ignis said softly, gripping the other’s hand and pulling him down, so that Gladio was half standing and half lying over top of him.

“There’re so many.”

“Be careful of where you put your hands, and it should be alright.”

Gladio chuckled at that, brushing the backs of his fingers against Ignis’ cheekbone. “That’s harder than it looks,” he admitted. “I want to put my hands all over you.”

“There will be other times.”

“Not like this.”

Ignis knew what he meant, and had no reply. But then Gladio was kissing him again, shifting so that his weight was pressing down on Ignis’ good side, and all thought of words was lost. It was a good sort of pressure, Ignis humming contently as the other’s hand skimmed down his torso and landed on the flat of his stomach, fingers splayed across the firm muscles. It was warm and comforting, and it made their bodies connect at all of the right places.

Gladio’s hands hooked into the waistband of Ignis’ borrowed shorts, pulling them down in one swift movement. Then his hand was on Ignis’ rapidly hardening cock, gripping him tight and stroking him from base to tip. Ignis sighed into Gladio’s mouth, fingers of his free hand clenching in the sheets beneath him. His lover had long since discovered all the ways that Ignis liked to be touched, each of the places that drove him mad. Gladio exploited that knowledge now, stroking and caressing in equal measure.

Eventually, his hand drifted down between Ignis’ legs, and Ignis’ breath hitched in anticipation. The skin there was sensitive, he knew, mostly from his own private explorations of his body, and the touch was acutely intimate. It was also distinctly pleasurable, and he huffed out a moan when the other’s finger finally gave up its teasing to circle his entrance.

“You like that?” Gladio asked.

“It’s certainly not bad.”

Gladio snorted, retreating just long enough to pull open a bedside drawer. He returned with a small bottle of lubricant and a condom, using the first to slick his fingers before he delved between Ignis’ thighs once more. There was little warning, a mere touch against him, and then Gladio was pushing a finger inside him. This Ignis had also done before, and this too felt good, Ignis squeezing the bicep beneath his hand appreciatively. A moment later, Gladio pulled the finger out and then quickly pushed it back in, settling into a shallow thrusting motion. Ignis moaned outright at that, free hand coming up to tangle in his own hair this time.

“I love the noises you make,” Gladio admitted, pressing a kiss to Ignis’ cheek. “Every - little - one,” he added, punctuating each word with a thrust of his finger.

Ignis screwed his eyes shut, toes curling in pleasure. Two could play at that game, he thought, snaking a hand between their bodies to palm Gladio through his shorts. The other groaned into his hair, and Ignis smirked. “I could say the same of you,” he said, squeezing the cock in his hand a little harder.

“Fuck, Iggy,” Gladio breathed, bucking his hips forward. “I can’t think when you do that.”

“Perhaps that was the point.”

“The point,” Gladio replied, easing another finger into Ignis as he spoke, earning a muted cry from Ignis’ lips, “is for me to fuck you. That still what you want?”

“Of course.”

“Then sit back and lemme take care of you.”

Ignis obeyed, releasing his grip on the other and surrendering control of the situation to Gladio. It was thrilling, in a way, to allow someone else to have their way with him. Allowing Gladio to get so close to him, trusting him, was a curious and wonderful thing, and the mere thought of it sent a fresh tendril of arousal through Ignis.

A moment later, and Gladio added a third finger to join the others. It was simultaneously too much and not enough, and Ignis keened when Gladio crooked his fingers deep. He was panting now, clinging to Gladio as if his life depended on it, sweat dripping down his brow and hair sticking to his forehead. He would have to shower again once they were finished, he thought, his cleanliness sacrificed for the pleasure pooling in his belly.

It was an acceptable trade.

“Gladio,” he said. “Enough of this. I need -” He broke off into a startled gasp when Gladio curled his fingers again, hitting that one spot within Ignis. “I’m ready,” he continued a moment later.

The other drew back just far enough to be able to look Ignis in the eyes. Ignis was pleased to note that the other seemed similarly affected by the situation, eyes blown black with lust, hair a tousled mess, sweat beading on his forehead. He was utterly delectable, Ignis thought, and he had to kiss him then, capturing Gladio’s full lips with his own in a wanton, needy kiss.

“Fuck,” Gladio muttered, putting a hand out to Ignis’ chest and pushing back. “Okay.” He sat back, drawing off his shorts in one fluid movement and reaching for the condom.  “How do you want to do this?” he asked. He gave himself a few short strokes as he asked this, breath catching a little as he worked on his own neglected arousal.

He was only being considerate, Ignis knew. Gladio truly didn’t want to hurt him even further. But it was a moot point, he thought, reaching out and pulling the other to hover atop him. The pain was secondary at this point - all that mattered, here in this small moment in time, was this man, this man that he _loved._

Pain was temporary, but this, _this_ was - well, forever was a bit trite to say, permanent just as much so, but Ignis thought the adjectives all the same.

Gladio’s gaze met his as he lined himself up at Ignis’ entrance. Ignis pulled him in close, kissing him hard, and then Gladio pushed forward, sheathing himself to the hilt. A litany of curses poured from his mouth, and Ignis thought he could understand, for his mind had gone completely blank the moment Gladio's cock had touched him. It was good, _too_ good, and he needed a moment to adjust before he wiggled his hips a little, ready for more.

Gladio moved, pulling out and then thrusting back in; he started off slow, only picking up speed when Ignis had relaxed a bit, had started to rock his body down to meet each of Gladio’s movements. “Shit,” Gladio panted, punctuating the curse with a particularly sharp thrust that made Ignis throw his head back with abandon. “ _Shit._ ”

“Indeed,” Ignis gasped.

Gladio chuckled. “You can still talk like that?” he asked. “Guess I need to work a little harder.” He hooked an arm around Ignis’ left knee, pulling the leg up and laying it on his shoulder. The angle allowed him to press deeper still into Ignis, and Ignis shattered, Gladio hitting that one, tiny pleasurable spot within him again and again, hard.

He didn’t let up, nearly bending Ignis over as he continued to thrust into him, deep and hard and fast. Ignis was reduced to a writhing, panting mess, base pleasurable instincts taking over in his mind. He raised his hips up a bit to meet each of Gladio’s thrusts, moved his leg from Gladio’s shoulder to his back so he could draw him in closer, reached down between his own legs to grab his own aching cock. He was close, very close now; he could feel the orgasm building up within him, heat coursing through his veins like wildfire. His eyes sought Gladio’s instinctively.   

“Gladio,” he warned. “I’m-”

And then he was falling, flying high off the edge of a cliff into a warm, pleasurable abyss, a long, drawn out moan pulled his lips as he came into his hand. His leg slipped from its grip on Gladio, gone boneless with hazy delight. He was only vaguely aware of Gladio finishing a minute later, his next memory Gladio’s comforting weight resting atop his side. A hand came up to his face, brushing his sweat-soaked bangs away, and lips met his in a soft, chaste kiss.

He was beginning to come back to himself now. The pleasure that had been keeping the pain in his limbs at bay had faded, leaving him sore and aching once more. He would be paying for this later, he thought. He might even have to take some of the painkillers the doctor had given him, though he hated the cognitive fogginess they often caused.

But it was worth it.

Never had he felt so satiated, so utterly, completely spent. Nor had he ever felt so close to another human being, so intimately connected. It was… wonderful, in every possible way. He gingerly placed his right arm around Gladio’s back, linking it with his left, drawing him in tight and pressing his face against the other’s neck.

“I love this,” he murmured.

“This?” Gladio asked. “What’s this?” Ignis could feel the deep rumble of his words through his chest as he spoke, taking delight in it.

“This,” Ignis repeated. “This moment. Us.” He paused, drawing back a little. “You.”

Gladio stilled atop him, raising his head to stare down at Ignis. In that moment, Ignis found him surprisingly vulnerable, an uncertain but hesitantly hopeful gleam to his eyes.

“Me? You-”

“I do,” Ignis said, more firmly this time. “Yes.”

Gladio kissed him deeply, curling around his body possessively. He kissed Ignis until both of them were breathless, and then he kissed him again. It was only when he pressed down a little more firmly, drawing a sharp yelp of pain from Ignis, that he relented.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I just-”

“I know,” Ignis said. "It's alright." He shifted, urging Gladio to let him up. "For now though, I need another bath."

"Yeah?"

Ignis stood, hobbling over to the bathroom door. He turned, looking back over his shoulder. Gladio was still sprawled across the bed, long limbs and lithe muscles on display for all to see. The sight of him made Ignis' mouth water, heat pooling anew in his belly. 

How had he gotten so lucky?

"Are you coming?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

"Am I allowed?" Gladio shot back.

"Perhaps. If you'll scrub my back."

Gladio was at his side in an instant. "Anything you want," he said, grinning. 

"Dangerous words," Ignis tutted, smirking.

Gladio shrugged. "I trust you." 

Ignis smiled at that, standing up on his tiptoes so that their heights were equal. He pressed a soft kiss to Gladio's mouth, lingering longer than was precisely necessary.

"And I you."

* * * * *

It took Ignis the better part of two weeks to fully recover from his injuries.

Those first few days after the accident, he did little more than lie about in bed, sleeping, watching the news, reading… among other, more amorous pursuits. He had attempted to get some work done, but it seemed that his body had had other plans, the aches and pains catching up with him and demanding more rest. Gladio, who had insisted that Ignis stay with him in his apartment until he felt up to moving, had become quite the doting lover, attending to Ignis’ every beck and call while he recuperated. Fetching him glasses of water, buying him his favorite foods, procuring new reading materials from the library… no task was too small or undignified for Gladio, and he took his role as nurse quite seriously.

After a few days, though, he managed to convince Gladio that he could fend for himself, and he returned to his own apartment. The rooms felt strangely empty after spending the past week with Gladio, and everything was much too quiet. He had to turn the television on when he went to bed that night, if only to remind himself of Gladio’s habit of falling asleep to late-night comedians.

It took him a little longer to convince Noctis that he was ready to return to his duties. The prince was hesitant, assuring him that Cor could continue to drive him to and from school if Ignis needed the time off. But that was exactly what Ignis did _not_ need; truth be told, he was beginning to feel a little stir crazy from a lack of things to do. Though he was still not back to his old self, he no longer felt constantly exhausted and normal movements no longer pained him. And so he informed Noctis that while his concern was appreciated, it wasn’t at all necessary.

His first day back at his duties was like a breath of fresh air, a reminder of the way things were supposed to be. He had worn a smile the entire day, happy to be out of bed and back at it again. A few people had given him odd looks at his buoyant behavior - he’d gotten one particularly nasty look from a member of the royal council during a meeting, as if the man couldn’t _possibly_ imagine how anyone could ever be happy - but for the most part, people seemed to understand his joy.

He returned to the hospital soon thereafter for a final examination, just to make sure that his injuries were healing nicely. The bruises had long since faded and most of the cuts had healed nicely. The one lasting injury was his broken nose; it was still a bit sore to the touch, and he feared the bump in the bridge would be there forever. It was a minor thing, really, a cosmetic issue more than a problematic one. Gladio had even told him that he thought his nose looked better this way.

Ignis wasn’t so sure he agreed, but he appreciated the sentiment.

Having passed this final test of his wellbeing, Noctis announced that he was going to throw a party that night to celebrate. Ignis protested this, claiming it was entirely unnecessary, but the prince insisted.

“It’s happening, Specs,” he said firmly that afternoon, as Ignis was looking over his latest math assignment for errors. “Accept it.”

Ignis sighed. “It would seem I have no option.”

“You don’t.”

As per his orders, Ignis left Noctis’ apartment by four o’clock that afternoon so that people - meaning Prompto and Gladio, Ignis assumed - could start setting up for the event. He obediently retreated to his rooms, waiting not-quite-patiently for the appointed hour by half-reading a stack of reports given to him earlier. It was a rather pitiful distraction, he thought, and he would have to read at least two-thirds of them again to get a proper, focused notion of what they were reporting. But they allowed him to pass the time reasonably well.

He returned to the prince’s rooms at precisely seven o’clock, raising a hand to knock on the door. To his surprise, Noctis opened it before he had gotten to the second rap, a slightly perturbed expression on his face and a ridiculous conical party hat on his head.

“You know, when someone says a party starts at seven, they mean like eight,” he said flatly.

“Then perhaps they should say the party starts at eight,” Ignis retorted.

“Hmph.” Noctis stepped aside, allowing him inside. “Good thing we knew you’d be right on time. I told everyone else to get here at six.”

“Everyone else?”

“CONGRATULATIONS!”

Ignis started at the loud yell emanating from the group of people across the room. He recognized Gladio, Iris, and Clarus, and Prompto, and Cor and several other members of the Crownsguard, and even - Ignis hastily bowed as he recognized none other than King Regis himself standing near the back of the crowd.

“Oh, none of that,” Regis said quickly. “This is _your_ party, Ignis!”

And a party it was - everyone in the room was wearing their brightest, most festive evening wear, dresses and suits at odds with the party hats Noctis had no doubt forced them all to wear. There was food and drinks, and even a cake - someone had thought they were quite clever, and had had it made in the shape of a pair of spectacles. That seemed to be a theme among the decorations, Ignis noted - the entire living room had been bedecked with streamers, and stickers and balloons in the shape of glasses were everywhere. A huge banner bearing congratulations hung on one wall, completing the ensemble.

Ignis shook his head fondly, accepting the drink Gladio pushed into his hands. He wasn’t so sure his body performing its natural healing functions was a cause for applause, but he knew that Noctis meant well, and said nothing of it.

By all accounts, it was a pleasant evening. Though everyone wanted to speak with Ignis at some point, none of them pressed him for a conversation, and he was able to make his way through the crowd with ease. At some point, Prompto started up the party games, and though Ignis didn’t always participate, he took great amusement in watching the young blonde emcee the spectacles. He was enjoying himself, more so than he normally did at these types of events.

Somewhere around ten, Gladio led him out onto Noctis’ balcony, sliding the door closed behind them. Ignis took a deep breath of fresh air, relishing the quiet hum of Insomnia at night. He stepped out towards the railing, leaning against it as he looked out at the city.

“Nice party, huh?” Gladio had followed him to the edge of the balcony, settling a hand on Ignis’ back.

“It was kind of Noct to throw it,” Ignis allowed.

“He likes you, Iggy. We all do.”

“Some of you more than others, yes?” Ignis asked, smirking.

“Hell yeah,” Gladio replied, grinning. He cleared his throat, shifting his drink from one hand to the next. “It’s good to have you back, you know. Back to speed.”

Ignis nodded in agreement. “It is good to _be_ back,” he admitted.

“Though I gotta say,” Gladio added after another moment’s pause, “I did kinda like taking care of you.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah. Kinda nice, isn’t it? Having someone to take care of, knowing there’s someone who needs you…” Gladio trailed off, taking a sip of his drink.

“It is nice,” Ignis murmured.

Gladio snorted then, grinning. “That how you feel, all the time, taking care of Noct?”

“In some ways,” Ignis replied. “In others, I believe it is entirely different. Noctis is young, for one, and he needs someone to look after him.” He turned to Gladio then. “Neither of us needs that sort of nurturing.”

“And yet it’s nice to know someone’s there, just the same,” Gladio said, finishing up the thought for him.

Ignis smiled. “Indeed.”

Gladio shifted, drawing a little closer to Ignis. “So, hey. Been meaning to ask you something.” Ignis turned more fully towards him, sensing the change in the other’s voice. “You can say no, if you want, I won’t mind. But I was thinking…” He reached into a pocket and retrieved a small metal object, handing it to Ignis.

It was a key.

“If you ever wanna stop by my place unannounced,” Gladio continued. “Or if you ever need a place to go. Just… you can have that, if you want. It’s my spare.”

A key. A key to Gladio's apartment. 

Though the other was pretending it wasn't a big deal, Ignis knew that that was a lie. This was big, a rather large leap forward in their relationship - one he could resist, if he so desired. Gladio was giving him that out, had as much as told him that he could refuse. 

He had no intention of doing so, of course. His mind - and heart - were decidedly made up.

Gladiolus Amicitia, for better or worse, was stuck with him.

Ignis curled his hand around the key, touched, tucking it close against his chest like the gift that it was. “Gladio, I - thank you,” he said.

“It’s just a key,” Gladio huffed. If Ignis wasn’t mistaken, that was a _blush_ coloring his cheeks.

He grinned, turning the other’s face back towards him from where he had looked away. “It’s more than just a key,” he said gently, “and you and I both know it.”

“Yeah, well.” It was all Gladio said, but Ignis could feel the sentiment behind it. “Been weird, not having you there this past week. I keep turning over, expecting to find you there, and you’re… well, not.”

“I will admit that I have had to sleep with the television on,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“The silence seems strange to me now.”

Gladio considered him for a second, and then extended a hand towards him. “Whaddaya say we get out of here then, head back to my place?” he asked. “You don’t have much to do tomorrow, do you?”

“A meeting at eleven, but nothing before that requires my attention,” Ignis replied. He took the hand offered him, letting Gladio draw him in close.

“You’re all mine then? For at least… twelve hours?”

Ignis smiled. “I can do you one better - I’ll give you thirteen.”

Gladio’s eyes sparkled. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :) 
> 
> There will be one more chapter after this - an epilogue, of sorts. Hopefully it'll be up within the next week. 
> 
> As always, feedback is much loved and appreciated :)


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This is set several years after the events in Chapter 14, just prior to in-game events.

“Gladio, have you begun to pack yet?”

The man in question looked up from the novel he was reading, a confused frown on his face. “What?” he asked. Ignis repeated his question as patiently as he could. “We’ve got days until we leave, Iggy. What’s the rush?”

“ _Days?”_ Ignis huffed. “We’re leaving the day after tomorrow.”

“Right. Plenty of time.”

“Need I remind you that the both of us have full schedules tomorrow? You won’t have time to pack last minute.”

“C’mon, Iggy, it’ll take me ten minutes.”

Ignis stared at his lover rather flatly for a moment, but the ire in his gaze was lost on Gladio. He’d already returned to his book, buried deep within its last few chapters.

With a muffled sigh, Ignis returned to their bedroom to finish up his packing.

Their bedroom - not his, not Gladio’s. _Theirs_.

He had never officially moved in with Gladio; the lease on the apartment still bore only one name, and Ignis still had his old rooms in another corner of the Citadel. But he only ever ventured back there on his most stressful days, when he needed an absolutely quiet, private space in which to complete his work. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten there, taken a shower there, or, perhaps most significantly, the last time he’d slept there.

The merging of their lives had been a slow process at first - a few pots and pans migrating to Gladio’s apartment, a few of Ignis’ favorite books finding their way onto Gladio’s bookshelves. Gladio had miraculously acquired a coffeemaker, and the once messy refrigerator become a shining example of culinary organization. An empty corner of the living room was given to Ignis as a workspace, as was a shelf in the medicine cabinet for his spare glasses and sundries.

He would spend a few nights a week there, relishing Gladio’s company in bed, rising early and making breakfast for the two of them before slipping out to attend to the prince for the day. In the evenings, he would return, bringing Gladio leftovers from whatever he had made for Noctis for dinner, and the two of them would discuss their days over reheated food and cheap alcohol. Sometimes, he would stay the night; others, especially when he had an early morning the next day, he would return to his own rooms.

But soon, it had begun to seem silly to him, the constant moving back and forth unnecessary. They should consolidate into one space, he had thought, and when he’d mentioned the idea to Gladio, the other had been very enthusiastic. And so, one weekend, they’d moved the rest of Ignis’ things to Gladio’s apartment, leaving only the large furniture behind in Ignis’ rooms. It had taken the better part of three days to unpack and find space for everything, but they had made it work.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Ignis turned to find Gladio standing in the doorway, hip cocked out to the side and arms crossed over his bare chest. It was a very good pose, Ignis thought, showing off the long, chiseled lines of his abdominal muscles.

“Nothing, really,” he said lightly, taking a step forward to open the wardrobe that held his clothes. “I was just recalling the time when we tried to get this thing in here.” He patted the wooden piece of furniture fondly.

Gladio snorted. “I broke a toe getting that damn thing in here,” he said. “Two, actually. Walked funny for a month.”

“I do recall telling you to be careful with it.”

“Damn thing’s a lot heavier than it looks.” Gladio sat on the bed, shooting the armoire a baleful look. To this day, he refused to hang any of his clothes inside it, using the small closet across the room instead. Ignis thought that this was ridiculous, but also slightly endearing, and so he never spoke of it. Besides - this way, he had more room for his slacks and shirts.

He reached into the wardrobe, pulling out pieces of clothing one a time; he would survey each, deciding whether or not he would need it on this trip, and then either placed it back or set it on the bed. Gladio watched him work for a few minutes, eyes curious.

“Are you not bringing any casual clothes?” he asked.

“Of course I am,” Ignis replied, pointing to noticeably much smaller stack at the other end of the bed. “They’re right there.”

Gladio turned to the second pile of clothing and snorted. “Iggy, that’s a pair of jeans and two shirts.”

“Yes?”

“We’re going to be driving for _weeks._ And what if we have to make a pit stop? You gonna camp in a button-down and slacks?”

“If I must.”

Gladio shook his head fondly. “You are one of a kind,” he muttered.

“If the only reason you’ve come into the bedroom is to judge my taste in clothing, you can go back to your book,” Ignis pointed out, his voice dry.

“ _Someone_ told me I needed to pack.”

Ignis gave him a flat look. “Then do that _someone_ a favor and get to it,” he retorted.

“Yes, sir.” Gladio gave him a mock salute and then hopped off the bed, moving over to the closet. He pulled out an old black duffel bag, setting it on the floor and then beginning to pile clothing into it in a rather haphazard fashion. Ignis pursed his lips as he watched; he was _not_ going to do Gladio’s packing for him. He absolutely refused. Gladio was an adult, perfectly capable of throwing together a suitcase for a trip.

And yet…

It _bothered_ him, the way Gladio was just throwing things inside the bag, with nary a care for organization, or wrinkling, or -

“Oh, stop that,” he snapped, rounding the bed and jerking Gladio away from the bag. “You’re doing it all _wrong._ ” With a huff, he upended the bag, letting the clothes fall onto the floor. He then picked all of them up and deposited them on the bed, where he began to neatly fold them, setting them in stacks according to their type - shirts, pants, undergarments. After completing his task, he turned back to Gladio to ask for the rest of it.

He stilled when he saw Gladio’s shoulders shaking in silent mirth.

Ignis’ eyes narrowed. “What, pray tell, is so funny?”

Gladio laughed outright then, unable to suppress his amusement any more. “You,” he said, stepping forward and grabbing Ignis by the arms. He drew him in close, pressing a kiss to his mouth before Ignis could protest. It was a testament to Gladio’s kissing skills that Ignis’ snappy retort died on his lips, his body resisting only a moment before melting into his lover’s form, quickly losing himself in the way Gladio’s lips were easing over his.

When his lover finally pulled away, Ignis was short of breath, his cheeks more than a little flushed with heat. Gladio was grinning at him. “You’re pretty great,” he breathed. “You know that?”

“I have, on occasion, been told that,” Ignis replied.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm. There’s this one man in particular who finds it necessary to compliment me at every opportunity.”

Gladio’s arms tightened around his waist. “Seems like a nice guy.”

Ignis leaned forward, just barely pressing his lips against Gladio’s. “Oh, he's very nice,” he agreed. He drew back then, just as Gladio was about to take charge of the kiss. “He is _not_ however, going to flirt his way out of packing the rest his belongings. _Properly,_ this time, like an adult.” He smoothly extricated himself from Gladio’s grip, dancing away when the other tried to pull him back.

“Tease,” Gladio groaned.

“ _Pack_ , Gladio.”

“ _Fine._ ”

* * * * *

The night before they were to leave, Ignis and Gladio had dinner with the Amicitia’s. Clarus had invited them personally; he had called Ignis on the phone, initiating a rather gruff, stilted conversation that had dragged on for five painful minutes before he’d just up and asked them to come to dinner. Ignis had quickly agreed, as eager to be done with the awkward call as Clarus was. When he’d mentioned it Gladio, half concerned, the other had just shrugged it off.   

“Dad’s always weird on the phone,” he had said. “He hates ‘em.”

Ignis found that an odd thing to hate, but he’d taken Gladio’s explanation for truth.

Now, a week later, they were standing outside the Amicitia family apartments, Ignis tugging insistently at the sleeves of the shirt he’d forced Gladio to wear. The fabric was stubborn, much tighter around Gladio’s forearms than was likely comfortable.

“This is why I hate shirts with sleeves,” Gladio grumbled, wincing as Ignis hooked a finger under the cuff and tried to loosen it. “Too damn tight.”

“You could ease up a little on the bicep curls.”

Gladio shot him an affronted look. “You like my biceps,” he retorted.

“I do.” He gave up on the sleeve, and stepped back, surveying Gladio’s appearance. “I also like the sight of you in formal clothing.”

Gladio cocked an eyebrow at that, grinning. “Yeah? Wanna do something about it?”

_Absolutely._

Ignis played it calm, making a noncommittal noise in his throat. “Later,” he said, voice low. “First… we have dinner with your family.”

Gladio sighed. “Guess we can’t put that off.”

“Your father would murder me.”

“No, he wouldn’t. He’d murder _me._ He likes you.”

Ignis ignored him, turning to the door and knocking to announce their presence. A moment later, and the door was opened, Jared standing in the threshold; he smiled at the two of them, ushering them inside. Gladio made for the living room, where Iris could be heard talking to someone, but the butler held out a hand to waylay Ignis before he could follow.

“If you would, Ignis, Master Clarus wanted to speak with you,” he said quietly, nodding his head back towards the study.

Ignis frowned, but nodded. “Of course.” Gladio shot him a confused look, but he shook his head, silently urging Gladio to continue with what had been doing. Whatever Clarus wanted to discuss, Ignis didn’t think it would take very long. The elder Amicitia was a man of few words.

He followed Jared down the hall, opening the door to the study without much preamble.

“Ah, Ignis,” Clarus said, looking up from a paper he was reading. “Come in.”

Jared shut the door behind them, leaving them to it, and Ignis stepped forward, taking the seat across from Gladio’s father.

“Busy, sir?” he asked, nodding towards the document. At a closer distance, Ignis could tell it was a report of some kind, the royal seal attached to the top of the front page.

Clarus sighed. “More than I’d like,” he admitted. He tapped the paper with a finger. “You probably already read this one. The latest, from the Empire.” Ignis had read it - the contents weren’t promising, and he suddenly understood the beleaguered expression Clarus wore. “Haven’t read all of it yet, but I hardly think I need to. Nothing good in it.”

“No, sir.”

“These Nif’s will be the death of us, mark my words.”

“I hope not, sir.”

Clarus chuckled then - it was a dark, dry sound, devoid of amusement. “Me neither, Ignis,” he said. “But when you get to be my age, you get suspicious of anything that sounds too good to be true. And this treaty?” He eyed the report dubiously. “ _Too good to be true._ ”

“Is that what you wanted to discuss with me?” Ignis asked, frowning. He had his own opinions on the treaty with the Empire, of course. Everyone did. But it wasn’t exactly a conversation he thought he’d been having at what was essentially a going-on dinner for he and Gladio.

“Mm, no.” Clarus sat up a little in his chair. “Sorry. You caught me in a bit of a state.”

“That’s quite understandable, sir.”

Clarus didn’t reply immediately, fixing Ignis with a serious stare. The strength of it made Ignis slightly uncomfortable, and he had to fight not to fidget under the weight of Clarus’ gaze. Just as he was about to prompt the other to continue speaking, however, Clarus broke the silence.

“You’re leaving tomorrow. With the prince.”

“Yes, sir,” Ignis replied. “The King will see him off in the morning, and then we are to head out.”

Clarus nodded. “He’ll be in safe hands,” he mused. “The safest, perhaps. I know how much you care for the boy, Ignis, how much Gladio cares for him. I trust that the two of you will get the job done.”

The man spoke like a soldier. To him, this journey was clearly a mission, one objective to be met in a list of many. They were to see Noctis married to the Lady Lunafreya, and then bring him back to Insomnia, where he would begin to take over some of the responsibilities from Regis, whose strength was waning. There was a goal set before them, a task to be completed. That was what Clarus Amicitia saw.

He didn’t speak of it like the complex political event that it was, neglected to mention the nuances of the treaty that were calling for this arrangement. Ignis hardly expected him to do so - that was for people like himself to discuss, in meeting chambers far from here.

Still, it gave him a small measure of pride to know that Gladio’s father believed in their ability to see this difficult task through to the end. He would need that surety before their journey was over; he didn’t know what the future would hold, but some measure of confidence and clarity would certainly be necessary.

“I will protect Noctis with my life, sir, as will Gladio.”

“I know. Told Regis as much, though it hardly seemed like he needed my convincing.”

Ignis chanced a small smile at that. “I’m pleased you think so highly of us.”

“I think highly of _you._ My son?” Clarus shrugged. “He’ll do, I suppose. He’s better when you’re at his side.” He shifted in the chair. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Gladio.”

Ignis stilled. “Gladio?” he repeated.

“Mmm.” Clarus fixed him with a keen gaze then, one that was imploring him to listen, and to listen well. “My son’s headstrong, Ignis, and he can be stubborn. You know that. You live with him.” He paused, pursing his lips. “He’s too much like me. Not enough of his mother in him. She was the one who always calmed me down, talked me out of my stupid, blind rages. Without her…” He snorted, shaking his head. “Who knows what trouble I would’ve gotten myself into?

“She was… soothing. Smart. Knew exactly what to say to make me come back to myself. Never took any of my shit either. Good woman. I don't think Gladio even remembers much of her. Iris certainly doesn't. It's... sad." He shook his head sadly. "Maybe Gladio would be different if she'd been here. But... maybe not. Maybe he was always going to turn out like me. That's what Regis thinks." He threw a hand up, at a loss. "Hell if I know."

He returned his gaze to Ignis. "This is what I ask of you, Ignis. This is what I would have from you. Be what his mother was for me.” He hesitated, as if he were asking a very great thing. “This trip will test all of you, in ways you can't even begin to understand. I know my son will do his duty, I know he'll fight to protect the prince. I know he'll do what he was born to do. But..." He hesitated here, as if this were costing him quite a lot to say. "Look after him, Ignis. Please. Make him strong. He is at his best when he's at your side. I've seen it, these past few years. You make him a better version of himself." He paused again, eyes wary. "Will you do that for me?”

It took Ignis several long seconds to process the entirety of what Clarus had asked of him. When he replied, his answer was certain.

“Of course, sir,” he said quickly. It was nothing less than what he would have already done, what he had already planned to do. But knowing that Clarus had also asked it of him - yes, he would do this. He would look over Gladio in much the same way he looked after Noctis. “It would - it would be my honor.”

Clarus offered him a rare smile, and held out a hand. Ignis took it, a mutual understanding passing between the two of them in that moment. There was respect there, and also acceptance - a welcoming, of sorts, into the family he’d grown so close to over the past few years.

The family he’d grown to love.

The rest of the dinner passed in a relatively uneventful manner. Jared had prepared a fantastic roast for them, and Clarus had pulled a bottle of wine out of his personal cellars for the occasion. The conversation was good too, a lively Iris effortlessly shepherding the discussion from one easy topic to the next, avoiding any mention of the Empire, the King’s waning health, or other unsavory matters. She was quite curious about their impending road trip, a tad jealous even, if Ignis was interpreting the subtle undercurrents of her voice right.

Gladio assured her that they would take lots of pictures, and that he would send her postcards at every opportunity. That seemed to mollify her a bit, and she eased up on the questions as they settled in for dessert.

It was late by the time the two of them were able to retire to their apartment. Ignis found himself sleepy, the wine and good food doing their best to lull him off to sleep. But it would seem Gladio had other plans, scarcely getting him inside the room before pinning him against the door and kissing him senseless.

Ignis didn’t mind.

He wouldn’t _ever_ mind.

Later, as they lay basking in the afterglow, Gladio turned to Ignis, a curious look on his handsome face. “What did my dad want?” he asked, smoothing sweaty bangs away from Ignis’ face. His hand lingered, fingers gentle as they skimmed across heated skin.

Ignis hummed in contentment when the fingers began to thread through his hair. “He asked about the trip,” he replied quietly, letting his eyes slip closed. “He assured me that he has complete faith in our ability to get Noctis married.”

Gladio chuckled. “Even if we have to drag him to the altar kicking and screaming.”

“I doubt it will come to that,” he replied.

“You never know with Noct.”

“Mmm. In that case, maybe we should invest in a cattle prod of some sort - more dignified than dragging him down the aisle, anyways.”

Gladio’s hand in his hair stilled, and Ignis opened his eyes. His curiosity had turned to hesitance, and Ignis knew he was biting back a question. “What is it?” he murmured, urging the other to speak.

“You ever think about that?”

Ignis’ stomach did a strange, flip-flopping thing then. “About what?” he asked. He didn't think he needed to ask, sure that he knew what Gladio was going to say, and yet he refused to assume -

“Walking down the aisle. Getting married.”

“I have,” Ignis replied, slowly, ignoring the continued jittery sensation in his midsection. “Several times.” Where was Gladio going with this? Was he… he pushed the thought away before he had the chance to finish it. No. It was hardly the time for that sort of thing. They had other, much more pressing matters to attend to - _if_ the day ever came when they had less responsibilities, then and only then, would he permit himself to finish that train of thought.

“I’ve thought about it too,” Gladio admitted.

Despite his forceful admonitions to himself, Gladio’s words pleased Ignis. “Have you now?” he asked.

“Mmm.” Gladio squeezed him a little tighter then, drawing their entwined bodies even closer together. “It’d have to be to the right person, though. Couldn’t marry someone I didn’t love, someone I couldn’t see myself bein’ with forever.”

“I feel the same way.”

“Yeah?”

Instead of replying, Ignis kissed him, soft and sweet, putting every ounce of love and affection he bore for the other into it. It was an answer, a wordless one, and Gladio recognized that, only breaking the kiss so that he could worship the rest of Ignis’ face with his lips.

“Someday,” he breathed, kissing Ignis’ temple, “maybe, that’ll be us.” His lips drifted down, pressing at Ignis’ cheekbones, the tip of his nose, and finally, again, his lips. “If you want,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Ignis snorted, shooting the other a fond look. “Do you need to ask?”

Gladio butted their noses together. “I will.”

“I’m afraid it may be quite a while before you get the chance,” Ignis said ruefully, thinking briefly of all of his duties and responsibilities. He doubted he would ever be entirely free of them - would Gladio wait until he could see enough of them through to the end? Would anyone wait that long? “Would you wait until then?”

Gladio smiled. “For you?” He kissed Ignis again. “I’ll wait forever.” Another kiss, a little harder this time, and Ignis felt the other’s renewing arousal pressing insistently at his hip. “What about you?”

“Me?” he asked, taken aback.

“Would you wait for me?”

Ignis looked at him for a good moment - at his warm golden brown eyes, his impossibly long eyelashes. He looked at his firm, square jaw, at the dark, course hair adorning his chin. He looked at his full, soft lips, at how Gladio had drawn one into his mouth, worrying it as if -

As if there was any doubt in Ignis’ mind about what his answer would be.

He leaned in close, ghosting his lips over Gladio’s, hands tight on the other’s arms.

“Always,” he breathed.

He didn't resist when Gladio flipped them over, pressing Ignis down into the mattress as he kissed him in earnest. He had no reason to. He would, quite happily, drown in this man's arms, drink deep of his love and desire and affection. It would never be too much, never enough to satiate him. 

That, more than anything, was why he would wait. How he  _could_ wait, no matter how long it would take. 

Because he loved this man - desperately, irrevocably so. 

And he always would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...aaaaaaaaaand that's a wrap :) 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, and for your kind words and kudos throughout this entire story! I have appreciated every one, and am so grateful for all of the love you guys have thrown at me and these boys :) 
> 
> Y'all are seriously. the. best.


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